


Moonrise

by apliddell



Series: Moonrise [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Black Golden Trio, Black Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Black Weasley family, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Draco Malfoy Redemption Arc, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Flying, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Epilogue Compliant, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Canon, Recovery, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, The Power Of Love, The power of friendship, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, activist Draco Malfoy, lycanthropy, set in 2001-2002, the rewards of being loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apliddell/pseuds/apliddell
Summary: Three years after the fall of Voldemort, Draco Malfoy is coping with lycanthropy, shut away from the world in Malfoy Manor. Meanwhile Harry Potter is still trying to save the world, and that includes Draco Malfoy, no matter how much Draco wishes it didn't.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Series: Moonrise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992589
Comments: 111
Kudos: 418





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wendlaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendlaa/gifts).



> For my dear dear wendlaa who inspires me so much. Thank you for all your support and for being my friend <3

Two mornings after the full moon, Draco woke dry-mouthed and aching all over. His head pounded, and a dazzling shaft of light fell into the room through the slit in his curtains and across his pillow. Draco groaned and raised his blankets over his head, but the tapping sound that had woken him resumed. 

“I’m coming in,” called Mother from the other side of the door. And she did. 

“I’m sleeping,” Draco told his pillow, then fell into a coughing fit. His throat was as dry as his mouth. It was a side-effect of the wolfsbane potion. 

“ Aguamenti ,” muttered Mother, filling the glass that sat on Draco’s bedside table. “Drink it.” 

“I know what to do with a glass of water,” Draco sat up and shielded his eyes with the crook of his elbow. 

“You need to get up and eat and take your headache potion. You won’t feel better until you do.” 

Draco sighed through his nose and drained the water in one draught, “You don’t need to t-’

“Come downstairs,” Mother collected the glass and waved her wand to open the curtains wider, filling the room with dazzling sunshine. “You have a guest.” And she turned and walked out of the room. 

“I. What?!” Draco called after her, but she didn’t look round or answer. 

Draco dressed slowly, his arms and legs sore both from the transformation itself and from the scores of miles he’d run in circuits around the manor grounds and then in the woods surrounding them, when he’d been unable to resist them. He poured a little hair potion into one cupped palm, but after checking his hair with his clean hand and finding it full of leaves and cobwebs, he hastily flicked the hair potion away. He’d have to deal with that particular mess later. 

The smell of bacon and eggs grew stronger as Draco descended the stairs, and his stomach flipped over in either anticipation or nausea; he wasn’t sure which. Draco paused at the door to the kitchen. There was a familiar voice leaking under it. 

“It’s all right; I’m really not hungry. I had breakfast before I came. Thank you so much for offering.” 

“Something to drink then, sir!” insisted Pipsy in her high voice. “Tea or coffee? Or pumpkin juice?” 

“Well then coffee would be lovely, thanks.” 

“I’ll have the same,” said Draco, pushing open the door to find Harry Potter sat at his kitchen table. 

Potter jumped up and reached into his robes at once, and Draco stepped back involuntarily, his heart pounding immediately. 

“This is yours,” said Potter, holding out a wand. Draco’s wand. “I-”

“Stole it from me two and a half years ago. It seems I remember,” Draco made no move to reclaim his wand. “And today you happened to see fit to return it?” 

“I’ve been meaning to for a long time,” Potter said, guilt passing over his features. He ruffled his hair nervously and sort of waggled Draco’s wand at him. He’d cut his hair quite short, except for the top, which was untidily luxuriant curls as ever. There was a spiral of curl hanging down to brush the scar on his forehead. It looked like it might tickle. “Sorry, I just. Well. You know.” 

Draco shrugged past him and sat down at the table. 

Pipsy immediately put a tall glass of pumpkin juice and a plate overflowing with bacon and eggs and mushrooms and onions and toast in front of him. 

“I wanted coffee,” Draco protested. 

“Oh no,” Pipsy shook her head sternly. “You know your mummy will not let you miss breakfast after a full moon. I would be dismissed! Be good to Pipsy and eat your breakfast, now. You are looking very pale this morning!” 

Draco’s stomach growled loudly, and he decided it would be more embarrassing to resist. He tucked in. 

Potter resumed his seat at the table and openly watched Draco eat his breakfast. Draco pretended not to notice. Pipsy brought over Potter’s cup of coffee and a mug of headache potion for Draco, then went to do the breakfast dishes. 

Potter sipped his coffee and nudged Draco’s wand toward him again, “Don’t you want it?” 

“I’m  _ eating _ ,” said Draco with dignity. “It’s not going to Vanish if you put it on the table and let me have my breakfast in peace, Potter.” 

Potter shrugged, “Fine.” He rolled Draco’s wand across the table to him, and it bounced off his plate and sat between them. “Are you ill, Malfoy?” Potter asked suddenly.

Draco willed himself not to flush, “Why? Have you become a Healer since I last saw you?”

Potter himself was looking very well. He’d put on weight since their last meeting when he was gaunt and shaggy with faded, ragged clothing. His face had filled out, and he was neatly dressed and clean shaven and had evidently finally started plucking his eyebrows. He even had new glasses.

Potter licked his lips nervously, “What was that she said about the full moon?” 

Draco jumped up, upsetting his chair. “Are you completely incapable of minding your own business for ten minutes at a time?!” he snarled.

Potter stood too, “I should go.” 

“Fabulous idea, Potter. Get out of my house and don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

“Well. Bye,” said Harry with a little shrug. And he turned on the spot and vanished with a quiet pop. 

Draco became aware of a soft dripping sound. He’d tipped over his mug of headache potion and it was dripping down the table onto his slippers. He reached for his wand with a sigh and siphoned the mess back into his mug. In any case, it was good to have his wand back. 

…

“A- _ hem! _ ”

Draco looked about him for the source of the meaningful cough. It seemed to have come from somewhere near his knees, but that couldn’t be right. 

“Pipsy?”

“Er. Down here,” Harry Potter’s head and shoulders were sticking out of the kitchen fire, and he reached out one hand to pluck at Draco’s robes. 

Draco jumped back, “Potter!” 

Potter waved, “Hi. Er. How’s your mum?”

Draco waved over a kitchen chair and sank into it, “Potter, my ignoring your owls was not a coy hint for you to Floo into my kitchen. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?”

Draco shook his head incredulously, “No! You can’t rescue me from lycanthropy, Potter and I haven’t asked you to anyway. Get out of my fire and go back to forgetting I exist, like you have been for the last two years.” 

“I.” Potter frowned, “That was a lot of very jumbled accusations. Are you angry about me paying you attention or not paying you attention?” 

Draco pressed a hand to his temple, “I am not angry. Please go away.” 

Pipsy came in and went to the stove, “Your wolfsbane potion is ready, Draco. Would you like some ice cream with it?” 

Draco rose from his seat, “I’m sort of in the middle of something, Pipsy. Give me a minute.” He nudged his chair backward and nearly tripped over Potter who had climbed out of the fire while Draco was distracted. 

“Go on and take it. I can wait. I know it doesn’t keep,” Potter took the seat Draco had just pushed aside.

Draco pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, “My life is out of control.” 

Nobody took any notice. Pipsy brought over a steaming mug, “Hello again Mr Harry Potter. Would you like some tea?” 

Draco took his mug, “I’m going to drink this in my room, and if any Potters follow me or appear there by any other means, I’ll hex them.” And he swept out of the kitchen. 

Up in his bedroom, Draco choked down the hot, bitter potion in peace. When there were only the dregs left, someone tapped at his door. Draco swallowed hard at the last of his potion so that he could tell whoever it was to go away, but the door opened before he managed it. 

It was Potter of course, “Pipsy said you usually have ice cream after your wolfsbane potion.” He held out a dish of it, “It’s peach, which I hear is your favourite?” 

Draco felt in his robes for his wand and pulled it out, “Right, I’m going to turn you into a raccoon now.” 

Potter tucked the dish into Draco’s free hand and sat down on the bed, “I just want to speak to you a moment. Erm. Right okay. You know how I was quite good friends with Professor Lupin. And my best mate Ron’s older brother Bill has-”

“I know who Ron is.” Draco took a bite of ice cream, “Are you stalking me just because you’re obsessed with listing me your sick friends?”

“I was  _ saying _ ,” Potter continued, rolling his eyes as if it were unreasonable for Draco to have interrupted him, “Bill would tell you that if you stay here on your own all the time, your brain’ll rot. You should leave your house and be around people.”

Draco took a larger bite of ice cream and grimaced through his brain freeze, “What makes you think I don’t?”

Potter raised a skeptical eyebrow, “So. You socialise?”

“Fine,” snapped Draco. “Here’s the last tiny scrap of my dignity, Harry Potter, much good may it do you. No, of course I don’t socialise; I’m a fucking pariah! You know that! Please go the fuck away!” 

Potter sighed longsufferingly, “Well er. I’ve got this house in London on Grimmauld Place. Me and Ron are sharing, and we have an Exploding Snap tournament with a few people from school, so if you want to-”

Draco sort of grunted and scraped the bottom of his ice cream dish with his spoon, “The last time I saw Weasley, he punched me in the back of the head.”

“Well, your friend was trying to murder us at the time,” said Harry fairly. 

“And you think we should all play cards together and chat over the good old days?” 

Harry shrugged, “Fine, if you’d rather go mad of boredom-” 

“And lycanthropy.” 

Potter dug his hands into his pockets, “Well it’s like. The dawn of a new age or whatever. I don’t want to. We. We’re all still trying to. Get our heads together, you know? That stuff before. Hexing each other and the name-calling. It was stupid. We were kids. It doesn’t have to be our. Our whole lives. You know?”

Draco looked down and wondered when he’d started rubbing his left forearm. 

Potter watched him do that for a moment, “I just. I don’t like to. I don’t leave people behind.”

“Ah, of course. Well this has been more than could possibly be expected of you, St. Potter. Your record is untarnished. Please go.” 

Potter stood, “All right. But I’ll be back.” And he stepped forward and Disapparated, leaving Draco with no doubt that he’d keep his word.

…

Draco was napping. Draco was trying to nap. Draco was unwillingly trying to nap. Draco was extremely tired of the doss his life seemed to be becoming, but unfortunately, he was also just extremely tired full stop. Draco was trying unsuccessfully to nap because he could not tune out the sharp tapping at his bedroom window. After a quarter of an hour’s attempt, Draco sat up in bed and threw his pillow at the window with a little growl of frustration. 

The window popped open, and a glossy, golden barn owl sailed in and perched on Draco’s upturned knee. She immediately held out her leg, onto which was tied a scrap of parchment. 

“No,” Draco stroked the top of her lovely head anyway, “I don’t want it. Go back and tell him I don’t want it.” The owl rubbed against his hand affectionately without dropping her leg. “I’m trying to sleep,” Draco flopped back on his remaining pillows in demonstration. “Go away.” The owl only stepped onto Draco’s tummy, where she waited with her leg outstretched and the claws of her other foot sinking through Draco’s pyjamas to prickle his skin. 

Draco sighed and untied the parchment from her leg, “I’m a dangerous monster, you know. I could tear you to pieces with my fangs. You’d do well to stay on my good side.” The owl only let out a warm little screech and nipped his nose gently. The contents of the parchment was predictable. 

_ Exploding Snap tonight! I’ll come round and collect you. No need to write back but you can send an answer back with Hestia if you like. See you soon.  _

Draco found a bit of pencil on his night table and scribbled his answer on the reverse side of the note, 

_ Potter,  _

_ I’m not doing that. Full moon 3 days ago. EXHAUSTED. Kindly piss off.  _

_D. Malfoy_ 


“And that’s that,” he muttered, tying the response onto Hestia’s leg and watching her flutter out of the open window. 

…

Of course when Draco woke up from his nap and descended into the kitchen, wobbly and ravenous, Harry Potter was there. Potter was standing at the stove in muggle clothes wearing one of Pipsy’s pinafores, magically enlarged to fit him, tied on over his emerald green jumper. There was a sizzling sound coming from the pan he was tending, and the room was filled with the savoury smell of onions. Draco’s mouth watered. 

Draco swallowed indignantly, “What are you doing here?” as if it hadn’t become rather a pet habit of Harry Potter’s to break into his house and hang round his kitchen. 

“Your mum told me Pipsy’s got the day off,” said Potter in a tone that implied the remark was both a question and an answer. “I didn’t know House Elves took days off,” he prompted when Draco didn’t respond. 

“She’s a carer, actually. Like a proper professional with wages and everything. There’s a service through St Mungo’s that sends round House Elves to people who. Who need. I qualify automatically for my first five years of lycanthropy. She actually brews the. Erm. My potions.” 

“Oh,” said Potter. He cleared his throat, “Have a wash. This is nearly done.” 

Draco sat down at the table, “I’m not a child. I know how to prepare for a meal. Why are you cooking in my house, anyway?”

“Pipsy’s got the day off,” said Potter in a well obviously sort of tone. “And your mum went to visit her sister. Andromeda,” he added. 

“Right, the one that’s still alive,” snapped Draco. 

Potter brought over a plate of chips and onions and a slab of barely cooked meat and set it down on the table in front of Draco. It looked and smelled so delicious that Draco fell on it at once, principles and cutlery be damned. Potter watched, with an air of smugness that was so well-earned, it wasn’t nearly as infuriating as it should have been. “Save room for pudding,” he remarked after Draco had inhaled half his plate. 

“No,” said Draco through his mouthful and hiccoughed loudly. 

Potter laughed and fetched Draco a butterbeer from the worktop. It was rather a nice laugh. Draco swigged from his bottle of butterbeer and swallowed hard. 

“The food is absolutely a bribe, and I’m not ashamed to say it,” Potter announced cheerfully when Draco had mastered his hiccoughs. 

“I’m really not going to-”

“That’s all right,” Potter held up a deck of cards. “I’ve come to you.”

Draco dug into his meal again, playing for time, “Tell me why you’re here. Really.” 

Potter shrugged, “I’ve told you before, and you didn’t believe me.” 

“I didn’t not believe you. It just didn’t seem like enough.” 

Potter flicked his wand and Summoned the butterbeer he’d brought for himself and left behind on the worktop, “Erm. Well I suppose. I. I don’t know really. I just sort of. Can’t let it go. That might be a. Well erm. Hermione says I push people too hard sometimes, like. The world might end if I can’t get people to listen to me.”

“Oh,” said Draco, “So it’s like. Your. Trauma,” he finished at the same moment Potter said ‘Ego.’ 

Surprisingly Potter looked quite pleased, “Some sort of blend,” he agreed. “Ego and trauma.”

“And that makes you want to cook steaks and play Exploding Snap in my kitchen?”

Potter sipped his butterbeer, “I can’t not help,” he said flatly. “Non starter.” 

Draco clasped his hands, because his left forearm was growing itchy, “But. Even me?”

Potter sort of sighed, “This is such a tiny help. Why would you fight it?” 

“Excuse me, I am behaving normally! You hate me, but you won’t leave me alone. You’re bringing me ice cream and cooking me dinner and owling me day and night. You really can’t imagine why I might be a bit. Suspicious of all this attention? Might wonder if I’m being covertly surveilled and  _ know _ I’m being treated like a child?”

Astonishment and abashment flickered over Potter’s face, but he didn’t answer right away. He sipped his butterbeer and considered while Draco finished the rest of his annoyingly delectable dinner. 

“Why didn’t you let them kill me?” said Potter suddenly. “When I got captured by that gang of Snatchers, and your family wanted to summon Voldemort to kill me on the spot, you protected me, but you had no reason to do that. Why would you do that?”

Draco flinched at the name and willed himself unsuccessfully not to flush, “I assume you don’t regret it.”

“Of course not, but could you say why? Can you put it into words?”

Draco shrugged and hunched over his empty plate, “I didn’t want to see you killed. I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want anyone to die. You. We were. I didn’t want you to die.”

“But if you can’t stomach the killing, then you can’t stomach any of it-”

“I know,” Draco interrupted, looking up at Potter. “I know that. I know that  _ now _ . I mean. I knew it sixth year, but. I couldn’t just.  _ Say _ fine kill us then. Kill the lot of us, me, my parents. That’s what. All that is about. He. You know who I mean. He reckoned it was down to him to decide who deserved to live and die and that’s what all the other. That’s what it, what all of it. Was about in the end. Getting rid of. Killing anyone they. I couldn’t. Why would I want to help them? Why. Why wouldn’t I want to save you?”

Potter seemed rather surprised at that reply. He was quiet for so long that Draco thought the subject had dropped until he spoke again, “When I first met you, I thought you were a bit spoiled and full of yourself and sort of rude.”

“Thank you,” Draco rubbed at his temples. “I was already aware of that.”

“Well, it’s influence, isn’t it! You were just being the person you’d been asked to be. Yes, you were. You did some really bad things; I’ll not deny it. But you’ve stopped now, haven’t you? And. We were kids! We both. Well, they let us down, didn’t they? The grown ups around us, when we were kids. If I’d been raised by your parents, I’d probably be a lot like you. That didn’t occur to me when. You know. When I was also eleven. But I’m not eleven anymore, and. Dnno. Maybe if I hadn’t found you so annoying when we met. Things would be different now. A lot different.” 

“You think if you’d been nice to me when we were eleven, you could have pre-emptively un-Death-Eatered me?” 

“I don’t know! Maybe? That’s only part of the point anyway!” Potter’s wand was visible through the fabric of his jeans, as it had started glowing somewhat alarmingly. He pulled it out and rubbed at it with his sleeve, and it shot a load of gold sparks over Draco’s head. 

Draco ducked and yelped and then straightened up as if nothing had happened, “So what’s the point, then?!” 

“Death Eaters aren’t the only people in the world who don’t hate you!” Potter stood up and thrust his wand away, massaging his curls with his other hand. “I’m shouting. That’s not on. Sorry. I should go.” 

“Okay,” agreed Draco. 

“See you soon?” offered Potter, already halfway across the room toward the kitchen fire. 

“Yeah.” Draco sighed, “Okay. See you soon.” 

Potter smiled, “Good. I left the pudding over there,” He pointed to a little bundle wrapped in a tea towel, sitting on the worktop on the far end of the kitchen. “And you should eat it, because I’m a really good cook.” He paused and looked at Draco, “I wanted everyone to be safe. That’s why I went through it all. Not just the people I already loved. Everyone. Including you.” Potter turned to the fire, “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place,” and then he tossed in a handful of Floo powder, stepped in after it, and was gone in a blaze of green flames. 

He’d left a treacle tart for pudding. And he was right. It was scrumptious. 

…

Draco’s eye bounced back up to the top of page 613 of  _ Contemporary Defensive Magic _ , and he tried faithfully to re-read the first sentence. The words simply refused to sink in. He had a sort of ticklishness in his brain that he was avoiding eye contact with. He doodled a zig zag on the top leaf of his sheaf of DADA notes parchment, then scribbled over it. After a short series of zig zags, he took a blank bit of parchment from the bottom of his stack, 

_ Potter,  _

_ Of the four times you have visited my home, you have absconded with one of the legitimate inhabitants’ possessions twice. This is an appalling statistic, but one can scarcely hope you are duly ashamed. Please return Pipsy’s pinafore at your soonest convenience. Going from the specimens I have seen, your clothes could only be improved by a modest amount of cooking spatter.  _

_ D Malfoy _

_ PS can’t stop thinking about that treacle tart… _

Draco rolled the parchment into a scroll to stop himself thinking of any more post scripts and went down to the aviary to find the house owl, Artemis. She stood quietly as he tied the letter to her leg and took off neatly when he’d finished. 

“Very professional,” Draco called after her as she shrunk against the sky. And then finding himself again at loose ends, decided on a little wander around the grounds, since he was already out in the fresh air anyway. 

Draco passed by the aviary on his way back into the house to see if Artemis had returned yet. She had, but empty-handed except for a dead vole, which made Draco cross and embarrassed. He fed her an Owl Treat anyway and skulked back up to the house. 

He could hear Mother in the drawing room, working on one of her water colours, and he crept past without attracting her attention. Draco wandered into the kitchen with some idea of conciliatory ice cream, and found, of course, Harry Potter’s head sitting in his fireplace. 

“There you are,” said Potter. “You’ve been ages.” 

“Have you been parked in my fire since you got my note?” 

“Nope, just popping in from time to time for a quick look. Glad I caught you.” 

Draco scoffed, “I don’t spend all my time in the kitchen, you know. You mightn’t have seen me til dinner time.” 

“Still quicker than owling back and forth all day-”

“Presumptuous. I have better things to do with my time than correspond with you all day over nothing, Potter.” 

Potter pressed his lips together briefly, “Right, well. Just Floo’d to say sorry for nicking Pipsy’s pinny,” he thrust one arm out of the fire and waggled the pinafore at Draco til he retrieved it. “There you are. Oh and also to offer you my treacle tart recipe. It’s unbelievable with ice cream.” 

Draco licked his lips, “I can imagine.” 

“But also you could just get it straight from the source?”

Draco pulled a chair toward the fireplace, “Are you offering to cook for me again, Harry Potter?” 

“Well not for you specifically, but. I do eat for my own sake.”

“Then I suppose there’s no need for me to turn you into a badger for your audacity.”

Potter laughed, “You can come round and share my dinner tonight, if you like. Steak and kidney pie and another helping of that tart you’re so fond of.”

“Acceptable,” said Draco. 

“Pie’ll be out of the oven in about two hours. See you in a bit,” and he vanished. 

…

“Hello!” Harry Potter met Draco at the kitchen fire, looking eager and wearing a pinafore patterned with Snitches over his jeans and a loose green jumper. 

Draco held out a bottle of elderflower wine, “Good evening.”

Harry took hold of Draco’s elbow to tug him out of the fire, though there wasn’t the least need of it, “What’s that?” 

“It is a beverage, Potter. One drinks it, and it occupies the mouth and prevents wholly incessant blather.”

“I mean what’s it for?”

“Drinking.”

“I mean why did you-never mind.” Harry took the bottle and set it on the worktop, waving a hand toward the kitchen table, “Sit. I’ll open this.”

“Now he understands,” Draco sat. It was odd as kitchens went. It seemed to be underground and was lit by the fireplace and with clusters of candles placed around the room at intervals. From under the table, there was a soft snuffling and something began tugging at Draco’s bootlace. He looked under the table and found a woolly creature mouthing his shoes. “Potter, I seem to be being accosted by your mop.” 

Potter laughed as he wrestled with the wine key, “That’s just Toad.” 

“I assure you it isn’t anything of the kind.”

“That’s my dog, Toad. Short for Toadstool. Well. His proper name is Lycoperdon Perlatum, which is a sort of toadstool and also ridiculous, so everyone just calls him Toad. Ginny named him. She claims it’s the scientific name and the regular name is Common Puffball, so to be fair, he is that. Still, though. She's getting really out of hand.” 

“I see. Nothing ridiculous about calling a dog ‘Toad.’”

Potter laughed again, “Well comparatively.” 

“Comparatively,” Draco allowed. The cork sailed out with a pop, and Potter rummaged in a cabinet til he found a mug shaped like a poodle and a rather dusty golden goblet. 

Potter got out his wand and pointed it at the goblet, “Scourgify.” After a moment’s thought, he repeated the process with the poodle mug as well. He poured wine into each and offered the goblet to Draco. 

“How courteous,” Draco started to raise his goblet to his lips, but Potter interrupted by tapping his mug to Draco’s cup. “To my health?”

Potter smiled, “Exactly.” 

They drank.

…

“Well,” Potter pushed away his dish and tossed his napkin on the table. “I think Toad’ll be needing walkies.” 

“Walkies,” Draco repeated, then felt like an ass for the sneer in his voice. 

“Come along?” Potter offered without taking any notice of Draco’s tone. Draco gestured to his wizard’s robes. “Ah, right. Muggle London’s just out there.” He tapped his chin, “I could Disillusion you, I suppose.” 

“It’d make you look rather insane, wouldn’t it? Talking to nothing. If you intend to continue to speak to me.” 

“You could pop back through the fire and get some muggle clothes.” 

Draco pressed his lips together, “Oh, do you think I have those?”

“You don’t own a pair of trousers? None at all?” 

Draco shrugged, “What use would they be to me?”

Potter stood, “You can borrow some of mine, then. Come on.” 

Draco was not sure why he complied, but he followed Potter out of the kitchen, up a flight of stairs and down a rather dark passage and halted on the threshold of Potter’s bedroom after Potter had gone barreling through. 

“Draco?” Potter turned back toward him expectantly. “Aren’t you coming through?” 

Draco struggled for a moment to find words to explain why he felt he oughtn’t, then came through anyway. Potter waved him toward the bed and began to poke about in the wardrobe. Draco perched on the very edge of the foot of the bed and tried not to look about too much. 

It wasn’t difficult. The room was rather bare. Apart from the wardrobe, there was only the unmade bed Draco was seated on, a small bedside table that housed a lamp, a glass with about a centimetre of water in it, a framed photo that was pointed toward the head of the bed so that the image wasn’t visible, a stack of books, and a Quidditch magazine. Draco pulled out his wand and summoned the magazine. He flipped through it til Potter turned back to him, holding out an armful of clothing. 

“Anything that suits you. The trousers may be a bit short, but I can sort that for you once you’ve got them on. Just come out when you’re ready.” 

And he pushed the clothing into Draco’s arms and left. Draco dropped the clothes onto the bed and sorted through them. None of it went together; each piece was a different colour. Draco settled on a blue and green tartan top and a pair of jeans. Draco’d never worn jeans before, and he was annoyed to find that they were somehow simultaneously stiff and slouchy. The jeans went on all right, but when Draco turned his attention to the shirt, he found that he did not at all like buttons. When he’d been struggling for about five minutes, Potter tapped on the door. 

“Everything all right in there?” 

“Fine,” Draco finished the buttons with his wand. “But you’ve given me a lot of mismatched bits. None of them go together. I look like a scarecrow.” 

Potter cracked open the door and leaned into the gap, “They’re not meant to match exactly. You look nice. The trousers fit better than I thought they would.” 

“I’ve definitely seen muggles in clothes where the top and bottom bits both matched. This is more slovenly than I would have expected, even considering your persistently odd socks, Potter.” 

Potter laughed, “You mean like a suit?”

“If you say so.”

“Well I don’t own a suit, so you’ll have to catch as catch can. Unless you want to wear my Snitch pyjamas. I reckon that’s a sort of suit. You’d get some looks wearing it outside, though.” 

Draco cleared his throat loudly, “I am ready to go.” 

…

Draco hadn’t been to London in a long time, apart from occasional Flooing to St. Mungo’s after a particularly rough full moon. He was surprised at how comfortable and casual Harry Potter seemed strolling along with Toad’s lead in hand in such a noisy, jumbled, smelly sort of place. Draco was not at ease. His borrowed trousers kept sliding down his backside and had to be repeatedly hoisted back up to his waist. And the sky was unsettling. A hazy lavender blue, starless and too shallow. But for the yellow sliver of moon, it’d look like a piece of dark crockery upended over the city. 

“What’ve they done with the stars?” Draco asked abruptly after several minutes walking wherein the only remarks made had been addressed to the dog. 

“The stars?” Potter looked up at the sky. “They’re still there. Only you can’t see them because of all the light and pollution from the city.” 

“I don’t like it,” Draco muttered. 

“I expect you can see them loads better over round yours.” 

“Hinting for an invitation, Potter? We do have quite a fantastic telescope on the roof.”

Potter laughed, “Are you much of a stargazer, Malfoy? I’d never have guessed.” 

Draco shrugged, “Well. You know how it is. You leave school and find time to do things you’ve never done before.”

“I did tend to have my hands full at Hogwarts,” Potter deadpanned. 

Draco laughed, feeling rather as if he shouldn’t, “Right, yeah. Quidditch captain. That really keeps you busy.” 

Potter sighed wistfully, “Now there’s something I really miss. Quidditch. I miss flying. Do you miss Quidditch?” 

“I suppose there isn’t really anywhere you might fly around here without the muggles seeing you.” 

“Well that and I. Lost my broomstick.”

Draco stopped in his tracks, “No! You lost the Firebolt?! How on earth did you do that?”

“Erm,” Potter rubbed the back of his head and crouched as if to tie his shoe, “It’s a bit of. Er. I. Dropped it. The night I left my aunt and uncle’s for good. I dropped it. I don’t know where it landed. I used to fantasise about going back and finding it after all the. You know. War stuff was over. But,” he shrugged. “It’s long gone.” 

Draco shoved his hands in his jeans pockets so that he didn’t rub at his left arm. He knew the pricking in it was only in his mind, and he took a long breath and pushed away the panic that was threatening to invade, “Trust you to be embarrassed someone tried to kill you.” 

Potter patted Toad, his face still bent and obscured, “No one wants to hear about a time you almost got murdered. Or else they’re way too interested. No normal way to talk about it.”

“You might get a new broomstick. You could buy yourself another Firebolt even. They’ve released a second model, I think. You can afford it; you’ve got that Potter legacy gold.” 

“What do you know about my gold, Malfoy?” Potter straightened up, apparently ready to walk on again. “I know I could buy another broomstick, but. What for? Seems like a waste. Like you said I’ve got nowhere to fly anyway.”

“I always sort of thought you might play professionally after we’d left school,” Draco confessed. 

Potter grinned, “Did you really?” 

“Well you might have! You really never thought about it?” 

Potter considered, “Viktor Krum told me I fly very well during the Tri-Wizard tournament in our fourth year, so I did briefly imagine playing professionally, but I think I just fancied Krum, honestly.” 

“I don’t think much of your taste, Potter,’ Draco answered after a moment’s surprised silence. “The man’s got a face like a falcon cut into a cliffside.”

“See that sounds really fanciable to me. Rugged like.” 

“You can borrow my broom, if you like,” Draco felt that a slight change in subject was in order. “It’s just catching dust. If you can bring yourself to ride a piddling old Nimbus 2001 after spending so much of your time on a Firebolt.” 

“Hang on, are you not flying? Why aren’t you flying? You’ve got that huge house with acres of grounds in the middle of nowhere, and you love flying, but you aren’t flying?”

Draco hesitated, “Er. I. I fainted. Once. Over a  _ year _ ago. It was right after the full moon, and I. Got a tiny bit injured. Sprained my wrist when I fell on it. It was nothing, really. But my mother’s really afraid I’ll faint again while I’m on my broom and fall off and break my neck, and she has an absolute fit any time I try.”

“Well I could go up with you,” Harry offered. “On your broomstick.” 

“You want to go up on my broomstick with me?”

“If you like,” said Harry quickly. “Keep you alive. Wouldn’t want to get out of practise.” 

“It’d be a shame if you lost the knack,” Draco said a little stiffly. 

“I’m going to be at the B-er with Ron’s family for a few days, but I’ll Floo you or owl you or something when I get back, and we can sort out a day. Okay?” 

“You can be the first entry of the month in my diary,” Draco agreed. 

Harry laughed, “Excellent.” 


	2. Chapter 2

After owling back and forth briefly, a date was fixed for their flying excursion. On the appointed date, a quarter of an hour after the time named, Potter climbed out of the kitchen fire looking a little frazzled. 

He looked approvingly at Draco’s Quidditch robes, “Hang on, I’ll put mine on, too. Be right back.” 

“That’s really not-” Draco said to Potter’s retreating back, but it was too late. Draco waited, feeling a little stiff and awkward with his broom propped against the crook of his arm. Potter reappeared shortly, looking very pleased with himself in red and gold robes so that Draco had to turn away and hide a smile. 

“Those have got a bit tight,” Draco stooped, pretending his bootlace wanted attention. 

“Have they?” Potter stepped forward to support the broomstick so that it didn’t fall. 

“Across the shoulders,” Draco sneaked a look at Potter under his arm. “You’ve got. Broader.” 

Potter raised his arms over his head, “They feel fine to me. Mind they were rather short, so I had to lengthen them with my wand a little and hide my odd socks.” He nudged Draco’s side playfully. “Didn’t want any more lip from you, Malfoy.” 

Draco stood up so that he wouldn’t wobble, “That is not an available option.” 

“Draco, are you depriving your guest of refre-oh,” Draco startled at the sound of his mother’s voice behind him and turned to find her standing on the threshold of the kitchen looking rather stony, arms akimbo. “What are you doing?” 

“Hello Aunt Cissy,” said Potter comfortably, leaning against the broomstick. “Last time I saw him, Draco mentioned he hasn’t been able to fly recently, so I volunteered to take him up and look after him.” He lowered his voice confidentially, “I’ve got great reflexes.” 

To his supreme annoyance, Draco felt his face warm, “‘Aunt Cissy?’”

Mother didn’t crack a smile, but her eyebrow twitched a bit, “That is what your aunt has taught your little cousin to call me. Harry seems to have picked it up as well.”

“Teddy Lupin’s my godson,” Harry explained to Draco. “So I’ve seen your mum round his granny’s house a few times. Small world.”

“Positively stifling,” Draco agreed. “Shall we?” He tugged on the broom in Potter’s hand, pulling him toward the door before Mother could object. 

To Draco’s surprise, Mother stepped back from the doorway to let them pass, “Mind you only go up with Harry and not after dark.” 

“The sunlight doesn’t make the ground softer,” Draco snapped, towing Potter toward the front door. 

“Thank you, Harry,” Mother called after them. Draco pushed Potter through the open front door and slammed it behind them. 

“Everything okay?” Potter asked quietly when they were alone. 

“Okay?”

“With your mum? Just now you seemed a bit. Hacked off. Just wanted to. Check.”

“Oh,” Draco shrugged reflexively. “No, it’s fine. She. She thinks I’m an infant, but it’s. Manageable.”

“All right. Just checking. My er. My family never liked me much. My muggle family you know, not my parents. Nobody ever. Well.” Harry shook his head fitfully, “Shall we get up in the air?” 

“The sooner the better.”

Potter held out the broom, “Do you want the front or the back?” 

Draco considered, “Front. Or I won’t be able to see past your massive shoulders.”

Potter laughed, “You’re taller than me! What’ve my shoulders got to do with anything?”

“Get on the broom, Potter.” 

Potter mounted the broomstick, still laughing, and Draco got on in front of him and kicked off without warning. Potter grabbed for Draco’s waist as the ground fell away from them in a delicious swoop. It was wonderful to be in the sky again. Draco hadn’t exactly forgotten, but he certainly hadn’t properly remembered either. The wind played in his hair, whipping at his robes and dropping stinging kisses on his cheeks and nose. Behind him, Potter was warm and solid and Draco could feel his chest expanding with his every breath. 

“Hang on!” Draco shouted, and Harry tightened his grip as Draco zig zagged and looped the loop. They went into a dive, and Harry let out a whoop of joy that rang in Draco’s ears and prickled down his neck. He pulled out of the dive laughing with delight. There was a floaty feeling swelling in Draco’s middle that had almost nothing to do with the broomstick between his knees. Draco pulled up on his broom, gaining and gaining height preparing to dive again, with Potter’s hands firm on his waist all the while. 

…

Harry Potter preceded Draco off the broom after they landed and frowned at him thoughtfully.

“Bit of windburn there, Draco?” Harry passed a gentle thumb quickly over Draco’s cheekbone. “And you’re cold. I’d better get you inside and warmed up or your mum’ll have my head.” 

“Getting cold does not cause lycanthropic transformations, Harry Potter,” Draco blew into his palms and rubbed them together. 

“Well I don’t want you to catch a cold either,” said Harry patiently, shouldering the broomstick and making for the house. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“I can lift a kettle on my own; you don’t need to make me anything.”

“Don’t you find it exhausting resisting everything nice?”

“That’s not what exhausts me.” Draco held the door for Harry and followed him in through to the kitchen. 

“I am very mature,” said Harry loftily, propping Draco’s broomstick in a corner. “And I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. How do you take your tea?”

“I want hot chocolate.”

Harry laughed, but found the cocoa tin in the pantry and made a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. He ladled some into a silver flagon and added a few drops of Pepper-Up potion and a very fat marshmallow before bringing it to Draco at the kitchen table. Draco took a long gulp. It was just this side of too hot and his whole body flooded with warmth at once. 

Harry took the seat next to Draco and set his own flagon on the table, “I can’t stay much longer, but I’ve got something for you.”

“Yes, I’m drinking it,” Draco bumped his nose against the marshmallow and slurped noisily. 

“Something else,” Harry dug in his pocket and brought out a slim notebook and a sort of silverish stick like a short metal wand, a little thinner and longer than his finger. 

“What’s that?” Draco sipped his hot chocolate. 

“I sort of invented it. Well I got the idea from erm. From my. My godfather. He gave me this mirror that. Er never mind that’s not important. Anyway,” Harry opened the notebook and held up the bit of stick, “This is called a biro. It’s like a quill, but the ink is already inside of it, so it’s much easier to use.” Harry clicked something at the top of the biro and wrote his name on the first page in the notebook. The letters shone dark green for a moment, then vanished. “It’s one of a pair,” he looked up at Draco, smiling. “You write in one and whatever you write appears immediately in the other. We can send each other messages, and it’s quicker than owling. If there’s a new message in the book, it’ll glow.”

“You invented this?” Draco took the notebook and looked at it closely. 

“Well, as I say, I took the idea from a few different places, but yeah. I mean I Charmed the books and all.”

“This is really. Clever.”

“More than just a pretty face!” Harry grinned then took a hasty gulp of his hot chocolate and checked his watch. “Gotta go; I’m really late. We should fly again. Write me.” And with one more glug at the admittedly scrumptious hot chocolate, he turned to the cold kitchen hearth and pointed his wand at it, “Incendio.” The hearth burst into a cheerful crackling fire. Harry took a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the worktop and tossed it in. Then after throwing a cheery wave to Draco, he stepped in and was gone. 

…

After a hot bath and a change into his pyjamas, Draco went down to have his supper in the kitchen, and found that the table had been laid in the dining room, and Mother was waiting, expecting him to join her. Draco took his place at the table and tried to interest himself in his plate.

“You’re looking well this evening,” Mother said presently, pouring herself a little more wine. 

“Am I?” 

“You’ve taken a little colour,” Mother gestured to her own cheeks in demonstration. 

“It’s windburn,” Draco tried not to remember Harry’s hand on his face. 

“I think the exercise agrees with you. Will you be flying with your friend again? I like that Potter boy. He’s been very good to your aunt and your cousin. Nice manners.”

Draco’s ears were going hot. He wondered if there was a spell or a potion to stop yourself blushing, “And as he does a good job of minding a three year old, you thought why not have him mind me as well?”

Mother continued thoughtfully as if she hadn’t heard him, “Quite clever, too. Obviously a very powerful wizard. You should ask him to help you revise for your re-sit exams and perhaps you might scrape a few more NEWTs.” 

Draco sighed through his nose, “I do not need your help with this.” 

“You do not need,” said Mother rather severely, “to make every passing remark into a contest of wills.” 

Draco put his fork down and stood up from the table, “Excuse me, I’ve finished.” 

And he left the room without waiting for an answer. 

…

When he got back up to his room, he found that the notebook Harry had given him was already glowing through the pocket of his Quidditch robes. Draco dug out the notebook and the biro Harry’d given him and flopped on his bed before flipping the book open to the first page. Sure enough, there was a message waiting for him. 

**Testing testing 1, 2, 3. This is Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy, are you there?**

Draco smiled and scrawled an answer below the message. 

_ Miss me already, Harry Potter?  _

**I left your house without nicking anything this time. Impressed? I tried to keep my hands in my pockets except for stirring cocoa.**

_ The cocoa was impressive.  _

_ Could probably be further improved with additional practise.  _

**Trying to get me to cook for you again? Greedy.**

**Maybe you should be cooking for me. Isn’t it your turn?**

_ I can’t cook, but I pay you back for your efforts with my charming company and rides on my broomstick.  _

**That’s a fair trade, actually. But in that case, you’re still behind, so you’ll have to take me up again.**

_ Acceptable. As long as you continue to provide cocoa.  _

**Sad you can’t cook, though. It’s usually easier than brewing potions. I could teach you.**

_ I know myself. It’ll taste better if you make it.  _

There was a long pause, during which Draco fidgeted inconsolably and finally went to brush his teeth, since it was at least something to do. When he got back, the notebook was glowing again. 

**Got to go to bed now. Good night.** **☽**

_ How wholesome.  _

Again there was no answer. Draco got out of bed to shut his curtains, but his brief absence had not done the trick this time. 

_ Good night.  _

…

  
  


**I am officially re-inviting you to Exploding Snap night coming up next Thursday evening at 8**

_ I am officially re-declining _

**It’s really very mean of you because I was very looking forward to routing you**

_ Is that meant to be tempting? I don’t want to be routed with a possibly hostile audience  _

**But in private…**

_ No routing. Decline.  _

**I’ll get you some time**

_ Doubt it _

**I just have to find some way for you to show off, I think**

**Then you’ll be there with bells on**

_ You are extremely cruel to me. I don’t see myself ever recovering from such a slight _

**Maybe a little lunch and flying on Friday, then? Round 11? Fly first then eat?**

_ Acceptable _

**Oh is that too close to the full moon?**

_ I suppose you weren’t listening during Astronomy lessons, but as it turns out, the moon does not come out during the day.  _

**So you’re available?**

_ That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. _

**Excellent! See you soon**

…

Harry Potter--as seemed to have become his custom--was late. Draco had been waiting for nearly an hour. He had taken his wolfsbane potion, changed into his Quidditch robes, changed out of his Quidditch robes into his normal robes, drunk two cups of tea, and paced around the kitchen, but it hadn’t hastened Harry’s arrival in the slightest. Finally Draco fetched out the notebook Harry’d given him and scribbled a note in it. 

_ Do I have the date wrong? _

There was no answer. Draco stared down at the blank page after his own writing disappeared, willing the familiar green ink scrawl to rise to the surface. But it didn’t. With a little growl of irritation, Draco stuffed the book into his pocket and wandered down to the kitchen. Down the hall in the drawing room, Mother and Pipsy were having a sotto voce conversation about whether Draco ought to be allowed to wait longer for Harry to turn up or be pressed into lunch at once. Draco didn’t linger for the verdict. 

He took a needlessly large fistful of Floo powder from the jar by the hearth and pointed his wand at the fireplace, “Incendio.” It burst instantly into a cheerful fire. Draco tossed in the powder and waited for the flames to burn green before he stepped in, hoping he remembered Harry’s address correctly, “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.” 

Draco staggered a little as he arrived in Harry Potter’s kitchen fire, brushing ash from his robes. He started a moment later when Ron Weasley jumped up from the kitchen table. 

“You!” said Weasley, clapping the breast of his robes instinctively, then dropping his hand rather lamely to his side. 

Draco had reached for his own wand as well, his heart pounding, but he dropped his wand arm when Weasley did and inhaled carefully. 

Weasley broke into a rather bemused frown, “I really thought he was having me on. Thought it was quite funny, to be honest. Did he actually give you your wand back?” 

Draco reached for his wand again but found he’d left it in his Quidditch robes. He nodded.

Weasley shook his head, “And you. You loaned him your broomstick?”

“What’s it to you?” Draco recollected suddenly that Weasley had both a broomstick and a family home out in the country, away from muggle eyes where plenty of flying could surely be done. 

Weasley shrugged, “Only he is my best mate. But I suppose you’ve got no reason to do him a mischief now. He did save your life and all.”

“And I saved his,” Draco pointed out, clasping his hands behind his back so that he didn’t touch his left forearm. 

Weasley raised his eyebrows, “Right. And now you’ve popped round for an ex Death Eater tea party or something.”

Draco did not answer and after a moment, Weasley sighed, “I could try and get him for you, but I reckon it’ll be quicker if you go up yourself.”

“Quicker?” 

“Come on, then.” And Weasley turned and stumped off. Draco followed him up the dark, narrow flight of stairs, down the corridor to Potter’s bedroom door. Weasley knocked, “You decent in there, Harry? Someone to see you.” 

There was a brief silence and then Potter’s muffled voice, “Alohomora.” 

The door popped open. Weasley leaned past Draco to poke his head into the room, “‘M off to collect Hermione. We’ll be back after tea sometime, yeah? Maybe the three of us can go to the cinema or something.” 

“Yeah, okay. See you later, Ron.” 

“See you, Harry.” 

And then Weasley clapped Draco on the shoulder and propelled him forward into the dim bedroom before disappearing back down the passage. As Draco’s eyes adjusted to the low light in the bedroom, he noticed that Toad the dog was lying on the bed beside Potter. Potter was wearing the Snitch pyjamas he’d mentioned before, and didn’t have his glasses on. Draco’d never seen him without his glasses.

Potter sat up abruptly, looking guilty, “Shit! Ha, I mean good morning. Am I a bit late?” He consulted his watch as he spoke, “Oh damn. Quite late. Sorry.” He yawned hard into the crook of his elbow, then reached for his glasses, “Been a bit off colour, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I know the feeling,” muttered Draco. 

“Sorry?” 

“Is it because you had a dog in your bed?” asked Draco much louder. 

Potter smiled apologetically, “Look, erm. I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m up to flying today.”

“I’d worked that out,” Draco drawled. 

“Hang around with me for a bit if you like, though. We could watch telly.”

Draco glanced at Toad warily, “Who’s Telly? A young relation of yours?”

Potter laughed, “Er, it’s a muggle thing. I’ll just show you, shall I? Be simpler.” He kicked off the blankets, pausing to stroke Toad’s ears and got out of bed. Potter opened his wardrobe and surveyed his clothes then pulled out a dressing gown and put that on instead, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Unfortunately I think I’m developing an immunity to slovenliness.” 

Potter tucked his feet into slippers, smiling, “Are you hungry? I’m famished. Comes of sleeping late, I suppose.” 

Draco followed Potter down to the kitchen where he poured two large bowls of something called cornflakes and handed one to Draco. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Harry leaned on his elbow and tucked in. 

“It goes soggy if you don’t eat it straight away,” said Harry, glancing up after a moment. “Or do you not like cornflakes?”

“I’m not sure.” Draco wrinkled his nose and pushed his spoon into the bowl, “Is it sweet or savory?”

“Sort of both?” Harry grinned round his mouthful and began to slice a banana over his bowl, “Try it.” 

Draco took a bite and then another, “It’s nice.”

“I’ll try and have something more interesting in for you next time. Ron’s just finished the coco puffs.”

Draco nodded sagely, having no idea what coco puffs could be and smiled into his shoulder when Harry leaned over to cut the other half of his banana over Draco’s cornflakes. Draco wondered if he’d ever noticed Harry’s eyelashes before. They were black and lustrous and luxuriously thick, like his curls.

“The muggle world is so much bigger than our world,” Harry said presently. “There’s cereal. You can live to a hundred and try new things every day and never run out.” 

“I’d rather have magic than cereal, I think. No offense to your hospitality.” 

Harry smiled hugely, “That’s the beautiful thing about it. We don’t have to choose, do we?” 

“I suppose not. Not so long as I have you brokering my cornflakes.”

“Exactly. You get it.” Harry rose, cradling his bowl, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Harry led Draco into a sort of sitting room with a sort of cupboard in the middle. He opened the cupboard to reveal a box with dark, glassy front to it, then looked round at Draco proudly. 

Draco squinted at the box and bent to look at his reflection in its shiny surface, “Is it a kind of mirror?”

“It’s a television. Telly. Have you really never heard of it?” 

Draco folded his arms, “Let’s pretend I haven’t.”

“Right. Okay sit down,” Harry waved Draco onto the sofa and gave him a rather rambling explanation of television that Draco reckoned he mostly followed. 

“How are you able to have this in here?” Draco asked when Harry gabbled himself into expectant silence. “Doesn’t magic make the muggle contraptions malfunction?”

“No, actually! I had a digital watch at Hogwarts and it worked fine til I wore it in the lake. And Ron’s dad Arthur enchanted that Ford Anglia back when we were about twelve, you remember? Anyway I found this telly at a secondhand shop, and Arthur and I put our heads together and got this one running on magic. I got a little one for Molly--Mrs Weasley--and she put it in the bathroom so she can watch in the bath. Obviously there isn’t any Wizarding programming, but she’s got really into  _ Eastenders _ .”

“Right.” 

“I reckon we should watch a video, and then we can pause it if you have any questions.”

Draco had not any idea of what that meant, “On you go, then.” 

Harry knelt in front of the telly and fiddled with it, and there were a series of clicks and soft, mechanical whirring, and then the mirror glass brightened and with a blast of strings music, a block of text in large, yellow letters slid slowly over a black background. 

_ Turmoil has engulfed the Galactic Republic… _

Draco looked at Harry, “Oh I thought it would be pictures? Have I got to read the whole thing?”

Harry laughed, “No, it’s just a little gimmick these films do to explain what’s going to happen. Sort of like. Erm. The opening sonnet before a Shakespeare play.”

“Right,” Draco nodded uneasily. “Shake spear.” 

Harry settled back against the sofa beside Draco and beckoned Toad to join them. Toad jumped up, and to Harry’s pretended indignation, settled across Draco’s lap. Harry’s hand was right beside Draco’s on the sofa so that their little fingers touched. Draco expected Harry would withdraw his hand when he noticed they were touching, but he never did. 

Draco dutifully trained his eyes on telly, and found to his surprise that the story they were watching seemed to be about a sort of clan of wizards. He found it rather difficult to follow. Still Harry’s murmured explanations and criticisms of the action were very pleasant to listen to even if they didn’t make any sense either, and Draco had certainly passed much worse afternoons in decidedly inferior company. 

…

Draco woke gradually. He was terribly comfortable, considering he hadn’t intended to sleep at all. He might’ve thought he was lying in his own bed but for the warm, fluffy heft of Toad pressed to his chest, likewise asleep. There was a blanket tossed over them both, and the fact of the blanket made Draco feel very warm and contented. He wondered briefly what had become of Harry before the sound of a whispered argument came filtering through his groggy consciousness. He briefly considered sitting up and calling out to make his wakefulness known, but decided against it when he realised that he was himself the subject of the argument. 

“It’s very admirable, Harry,” Granger was saying. “Only how do you-”

Harry cut across her, “When will you learn that I’m not ever trying to be admirable, Hermione, ever ever trying to be fucking a-”

“Don’t shout at her!” interrupted Weasley. 

There was a tense pause. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” said Harry presently, sounding clipped and still quite angry. “I don’t mean to shout.” He huffed a big sigh, “I’m not hanging round with him because I’m so fucking virtuous or whatever and I don’t need either of you to. I dnno. Protect me! I’m a grown man, and I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it since I was eleven years old along with the rest of the world, in case you hadn’t noticed!” 

“Of course we’ve noticed, Harry,” said Granger quietly. “You’re misund-”

“And anyway maybe  _ we _ don’t want to come home and find a bloody Death Eater having a lie down on the sofa!”

“There aren’t any Death Eaters anymore, Ron!” Harry returned. 

“Yeah, well not for want of trying on their part,” Weasley muttered darkly. 

“Don’t you get it?!” Harry was shouting again. “Getting rid of Dark wizards isn’t all about hexing them into oblivion and throwing them into Azkaban. If someone was a part of that, but they  _ want _ to turn away and  _ want _ to give it up, and when they come to us, we tell them  _ no, you’re scum, and you’ll always be scum _ . Where does that leave them? What are they supposed to do then? 

“The war is over now, and we’ve  _ all _ got the chance to make things over better than they were, and if Draco Malfoy wants that for himself, I want to be part of it! Can’t you understand that? If we just leave them as they were and pretend they don’t exist, what’s to stop the next Dark wizard from just collecting them all up again like Voldemort did and Grindelwald did before him?” 

There was a thump and a sort of skid as if Harry had thrown himself into a chair and then the quiet whisper of robes and Granger spoke again, her voice muffled, “Oh Harry.”

“I know what you think,” Harry said, a little roughly but much calmer. “I heard you lot talking in the kitchen the other day.” 

Weasley scoffed, “She wasn’t being serious!”

“I was a bit, actually,” said Granger, her voice still muffled. Draco wondered if she were hugging Harry. “It’s not. Out of the question. Is it, Harry?”

“Well, that’s not why-” Harry began. 

“Come off it, Hermione,” said Weasley scathingly. “That pasty, scrawny git? I mean Neville’s quite understandable; he’s looking really fit these days, but-”

“Oh because you know so much about Harry’s type,” hissed Granger. 

“And it’s beside the point!” Harry said loudly. “Shut up, both of you! You’ll wake him.” All three fell silent at that point, listening. Draco raised the blanket to his chin and hugged Toad. 

Presently, as if to draw a line under the preceding discussion, Weasley cleared his throat, “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I? Have you had your tea, Harry?” 

Draco frowned and made to check his watch, then remembered he’d left it off for flying. He sprang up from the sofa, knocking Toad aside with a little yip of surprise, and half stumbled to the window, where he tore back the curtain to find the sky the dusky colour of a shadow with only a glimmer of tangerine sunlight left at the horizon. 

Draco shoved the curtain back to cover the window, though he knew well enough that wouldn’t help and turned his back on it, “Harry!  _ Harry! _ ” 

Harry met him in the doorway an instant later, “Draco? Are you all right? What’s the matter?” 

“I need your Floo; I’ve got to get home at once! It’s the full moon tonight; it’s nearly dark! I’ll be I’m.” He swallowed hard and tried to breathe evenly, “I’ve got to go! Please. Help me.”

“Okay,” Harry took hold of Draco’s shoulder to steady him, “Have you taken your potion?”

“Of course I’ve taken my potion!” Draco screeched. “But I can’t do it here, can I?! Please, I need your Floo, now!” 

Granger had come up the passage behind Harry, looking stricken and she raised a faltering hand to her mouth as she spoke, “I used the last of the Floo powder last night. We meant to get more on the way home today, but we got. Distracted.” 

Draco gave a little scream of frustration, wondering if he dared Apparate so close to his transformation and deciding quickly that he had no other choice. He stepped forward and turned on the spot, but nothing happened. He felt for his wand. It wasn’t there. He’d left it in his Quidditch robes. He stamped his foot, his jaw clenched against another outcry. 

Harry gave him a little shake, “Draco! Listen to me. It’s all right. You can transform here, and I’ll take you home when you’ve finished.” 

“I can’t do it here! I can’t! No one’s ever. No one’s ever seen.”

“Yes, you can,” said Harry firmly with a pat on his arm, “We’ll leave you the room while you get on with it, and I’ll take you home by Side-Along straight away when you’ve finished. Okay?” Even through his panic, Draco was struck by Harry’s offer to help him and even touch him after his transformation. But there was no more time to argue or doubt. 

Resigned, Draco straightened up and glanced back at the curtain drawn over the darkening sky and nodded, “Better take Toad.” 

By the time Harry and the dog and Granger had gone out and shut the sitting room door behind them, Draco’s skin had begun to burn and prickle. He pulled his robes off over his head, then stooped to unlace and shuck off his boots, the backs of his hands already sprouting dense, silvery fur. Draco crouched nude beside the door of the sitting room, fighting hard against a cry of pain as his skin stretched and bristled and his bones cracked. 

Draco couldn’t hold back the low howl that burst from him when his transformation was complete, and from the other side of the door, Toad howled in answer, his voice thin in comparison with Draco’s. 

There was a pause and then a gentle tapping at the door, “Draco? Are you all right? Are you ready? Shall I come in?” Another pause in which Draco inwardly scoffed, wondering how Harry expected him to answer in his present state. “Bark or something if you aren’t ready.” Harry paused again, then when Draco did not bark, he cracked the door open, “I’m coming in.” 

Draco backed up from the doorway, and Toad pushed past Harry’s legs and rushed into the room straight for Draco, wagging his tail madly and prancing with joy and excitement. His demeanor was catching, and Draco found himself wagging his own tail despite himself and bending to give Toad a friendly sniff and let himself be sniffed in return. Harry smiled to watch them, then composed his features when he caught eyes with Draco. 

He cleared his throat, “Ready to go?”

Draco came and sat near Harry’s feet and looked up at him. His head was level with Harry’s chest. 

“Good.” Harry gave him a little smile, “Right, okay. We need to hold onto each other. Maybe you’d better put your. Er. Your paws on my shoulders.” He patted each shoulder in turn.

Draco stood up on his hind legs, then very carefully braced his forelegs against Harry’s shoulders. They were nose to nose. Harry smelled wonderfully hot-blooded, soft and human. That close, Draco could hear the quiet thump of his heart. Steady and not much quicker than usual. Draco checked the urge to sniff along Harry’s collar or into his ear. 

Harry blinked and licked his lips, “Blimey, you’re big. I had no idea. Sorry, that’s. Stupid thing to say; don’t mind me.” Draco scarcely felt Harry rest his hands on his back through the thick fur there. “Here we go, then.” And with effort, Harry edged forward, and they were plunged abruptly into the twisting, squeezing dark. 

They landed with a thump before the gates of Malfoy Manor, where Harry immediately overbalanced and sprawled backward, Draco landing on top of him. With the breeze playing in his fur and the sky above beginning to glitter with stars and the smell of the stream and the whispers and rustles and buzzings and skitterings of a thousand living things all around him, Draco could appreciate the amusing side of having Harry beneath him. He darted a quick lick on Harry’s cheek and didn’t bother to shift himself, even as Harry wiggled up into a sitting position. 

Harry didn’t look at all put out over the rough landing, “There you are. Home safe and sound, just like I said, yeah?” He touched Draco’s shoulder again briefly, then got to his feet. 

Draco, still swept up in the pleasure of the lovely evening falling over the grounds, pranced a bit just as Toad had and bowed, then took playful hold of the corner of Harry’s dressing gown and gave it a cheery tug. It tore at once. 

“All right, giddy!” Harry twitched his clothes back away from Draco, but there was no annoyance in his voice, “What do you do now, anyway? Just run about? Wolf stuff?” 

Draco bowed again, his tail wagging. 

Harry laughed, “I’ll leave you to it, I suppose. Oh, actually! I’ve got an idea. Hang on a moment. I’ll be right back.” He twisted on the spot and vanished with a pop.

Draco had just made up his mind to go and have a drink from the stream, when Harry reappeared, ten yards off with something large and fluffy held in his arms. Draco bounded up to him and found that it was Toad, who yelped with delight to see him and sprang out of Harry’s arms to meet Draco as he approached. 

Harry laughed, “I thought you might like the company.” He had Draco’s robes and boots slung over his shoulder, and he hung them carefully on the gates, “Look after him, though? Home in one piece and all. I’ll be back later to collect him. Tomorrow or the next day maybe. Whenever you’re up to it.” 

Draco was only half listening. The woods were calling, and he had a friend to take with him. He threw his head back and howled and barely noticed the faint pop of Harry vanishing again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Draco woke marvellously warm in his own bed. The room was silent and dark but for the gentle glow of the notebook sitting on Draco’s night table. Toad was lying half on top of him, with his head rested on Draco’s middle. Draco stroked him, and Toad stirred his head to lick Draco’s chin, his tail thumping on the mattress. Heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed with fatigue as he was, Draco was deliciously cosy, so he only hugged Toad to him and shut his eyes again. After a moment, something occurred to him, and he pushed himself slowly to sitting. Draco reached for his wand, conjured a crystal dish and caught it midair, then set it on his night table. 

“Aguamenti,” Draco pointed his wand at the dish to fill it with cool water. Toad crept over and lapped gratefully. Draco stroked Toad’s back, then conjured a goblet for himself and filled it with water to have his own drink. Refreshed, Draco sank back under the bedclothes and went back to sleep with Toad nestled against his chest. 

…

**How are you feeling?**

**Did Toad keep you company well enough? I Floo’d in after we got some more Floo powder to explain to Pipsy and your mum about Toad and leave some dog food for him.**

**Hope you’re all right. I expect you’re tired.**

**Speak soon, I reckon.**

_ Feeling okay.  _

_ Asterisk.  _

_ Got about twelve minutes between sleeps. Enjoy me while I last. _

_ Thanks for the dog.  _

**No problem.**

**You’ve got to give him back, though.**

_ Make me.  _

**I will, but I’m waiting for you to get up and maybe have a cuppa and a nice breakfast.**

**Then making.**

_ I look forward to it.  _

…

_ Will we be flying again soon? _

**Are you up for it? Aren’t you still tired?**

_ Yes, but I am optimistic about the possibility of having soon slept enough.  _

**Write me, then. Promise I won’t sleep through it this time.**

_ Why didn’t you turn up? I’ve been wondering _

_ You said you were off-colour. Are you ill? Or were? Got a cold? _

**No, not ill** . 

**Not really, anyway.**

_ Taking a leaf from my cryptic book? How can a person be not really ill? _

**It’s complicated.**

_ Well I’ve got time on my hands.  _

_ I showed you mine. Fair’s fair.  _

**Guess so.**

_ Obviously you don’t actually have to. I can’t make you.  _

_ Not from here anyway.  _

**My brain just goes a bit wonky sometimes.**

**Well it’s always a bit wonky, but sometimes it’s extra wonky, and I’ve got to coddle it like a sick baby.**

_ So you actually are a nutter, then?  _

**A bit, yes. It’s sort of a long story, but I went properly nutty for a while after the war ended.**

**Your brain sort of changes and adapts to the way you live your life so that you can survive and function and that. And my brain adapted to being hunted, because for quite a long time someone actually was hunting me and trying to kill me and all my friends. And then it was over quite suddenly but in my mind, it never really stopped.**

**Like I knew the world wasn’t ending anymore and murderers weren’t after me anymore, but it was like only the surface of my brain knew and the rest of my brain wasn’t too sure. And the feeling wasn’t going away, and it started causing me all sorts of problems that I won’t get into at the moment. Not sleeping was a big one, though and the not sleeping thing led to other stuff so that I did really lose my mind a bit.**

_ God.  _

**Yeah.**

_ You seem okay now.  _

**Thanks.**

**I’m trying really hard.**

_ How did you find it again?  _

_ Your mind I mean. _

**I went to St Mungo’s for the sleep thing, and they’ve actually got a whole ward for helping people who’ve got wonky brain. So I stayed there for a bit, and they helped me.**

_ Are there potions for that?  _

**Sort of. There are potions to help cope with the physical effects. And they do other things to help you understand why your brain’s gone funny and guide you through unfunnying it.**

_ Sounds ghastly.  _

**It’s really really really fucking difficult. I’m still at it, honestly.**

_ So the other day, it was the no sleep thing that made you feel off-colour?  _

**Exactly.**

_ Pardon my hypocrisy but it’s one in the morning. Shouldn’t you be asleep now?  _

**Shit, is it? Yes, I should. And so should you.**

_ Good night then.  _

**Good night ☽**

**…**

**So when are you delivering my dog?**

_ Aren’t you coming to collect him? _

**Oh I suppose I could.**

_ Your friends don’t seem to like me being there. Don’t want to cause you any trouble.  _

**It’s my house, and I’ll invite whoever I like.**

_ And you like me? _

**I do like you.**

_ I suppose it’s pointless to keep arguing.  _

**Arguing doesn’t usually work on me, to be honest.**

_ I suppose I’ll just have to sit back and enjoy it.  _

**Looks that way, yeah.**

**…**

Three mornings after the full moon, Draco ambled down to the kitchen with Toad at his heels. After a truly heroic helping of breakfast at Pipsy’s insistence, Draco tossed a bit of Floo powder into the kitchen fire and turned to Toad. 

“Do you know how to do this? If I take you in the Floo, will you panic and jerk us out early?” Toad wagged his tail, and Draco fed him a slice of bacon. When Toad had gobbled up the bacon, Draco gathered him up in his arms and stepped into the fire. 

They arrived safely in the kitchen fire of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and Toad leapt out of Draco’s arms as soon as they did. 

“Toady!” Ginny Weasley had been sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of cornflakes in front of her, but she got up at once and stooped to claim doggy hugs and kisses. 

Draco stepped cautiously out of the fire, “Good morning.” 

The Weasley girl looked over her shoulder at him, seemingly quite unsurprised, “Oh hello.” She’d clipped down her mane of red hair to coily fuzz and her face was even more riotously freckled than it had been at school, “Himself’s been expecting you. I’ll let him know you’re here.” 

“Thank you,” said Draco. 

Ginny straightened up and tipped her head back to raise her face to the ceiling, “HARRYYYY YOUR BOYFRIEND’S HERE.” Draco’s ears rang. It was remarkable that such a small person could make such a huge sound.

Harry’s answering bellow came back immediately, “WERE YOU RAISED IN A BARN, WOMAN?” 

Ginny smiled, “He’ll be right down. Cuppa tea?”

“No need,” Draco noted he’d folded his hands in front of himself and tucked them into the pockets of his robes instead. “I can wait for. Erm.”

Ginny nodded knowingly and gave him a big grin and a wink, “Gotcha. Well sit down anyway.” She dropped back into her chair and returned to her cornflakes. 

Draco sat and patted Toad for want of anything else to do. Harry was not as right down as he’d hoped. “Do you live here as well?” Draco asked presently. It felt odd to sit there in silence. 

Ginny was drinking the milk from her bowl, having finished the cornflakes, but she set it down to answer, “Well technically I still live at the Burrow for another couple of months. But I’ll be going on tour with the Harpies soon. And I might move in with my girlfriend once the season’s done.”

“Not with Harry? I hadn’t pegged you for old-fashioned, Weasley.”

Ginny snorted heartily, “With  _ Harry _ ? Why would I want to live with Harry? And Ron as well, can you imagine?”

Draco frowned quizzically, “Aren’t you? Going out with him? Harry I mean, obviously.”

Ginny burst into laughter, “Oh you _are_ behind the times! Erm, no, I am not going out with Harry. That was years ago! For like. A handful of weeks. No, no no no, I am not going out with Harry Potter no no no. Hel- _lo_!” she gestured to herself, and Draco stared but couldn’t understand what she was getting at. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m a dyke! A lesbian. I fancy girls,” she added when he still looked confused. 

“Oh. Oh! So when you said moving in with your girlfriend-”

“Yes, I meant proper girlfriend,” Ginny beamed. She pushed up her sleeve to show him she’d had ‘Luna’ tattooed on the inside of her wrist in a twinkly, glittery, magical lettering that looked like clusters of stars. 

“Pretty,” said Draco cordially. 

“Yeah,” Ginny sighed happily and lifted her bowl to slurp down the rest of her milk. 

“Noisy sod,” said Harry fondly as he entered the kitchen. “Morning Draco. Hey, my boy’s here!” He stooped to say hello to Toad. 

“Lazy bastard,” Ginny returned, taking her bowl to the sink. “Draco’s been waiting for you. Wouldn’t let me fix him a cup of tea. Guess it tastes better when you do it.” 

Harry looked up at Draco and smiled, “Sorry to keep you waiting. Hope Ginny didn’t burst your eardrums.” 

Draco tossed his head, “Obviously she was shockingly loud but eventually quite helpful.” 

“Hmm?” Harry frowned in confusion, but Ginny caught Draco’s eye as she moved toward the door. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” she winked again and was gone. 

“Mental, that one,” said Harry mildly, crossing to put the kettle on. 

“I like her,” said Draco. “I didn’t know she had a girlfriend.”

Harry paused in his tea preparations, “Is that a. Problem?”

“Why would it be a problem?” 

Harry shrugged, “Some people are funny about that sort of stuff. Muggles can be really funny about it, and you never know with our lot. Could go either way.” He fiddled with the sugar bowl in an evident attempt at nonchalance, “I had a boyfriend for a bit. Well a bit longer than a bit. Nearly a year.”

“Did you?” Draco was somehow both surprised and unsurprised. He thought for a moment, remembering what he’d overheard from Harry’s sofa on the night of the last full moon, “Neville Longbottom?”

Harry looked pleased, “Yeah, Neville.”

“He got quite attractive after fifth year, actually.” 

Harry chuckled, “He really did. It wasn’t in school, though. I used to see him round St Mungo’s when I was there, and we’d get chatting. We got quite close. We started going out after I left.”

“Hm.” Draco wished his cup of tea was ready so he’d have something specific to look at other than Harry. He bent and kissed the top of Toad’s head, “I’ve never had a boyfriend. I used to snog Blaise Zabini semi-regularly during sixth year, though.”

“Oh he’s good looking,” said Harry politely. 

“Very.” Draco sighed, “Looks aren’t everything.”

“No,” agreed Harry. “So you as well, mm? Excellent. That means we’ve finally got Ron and Hermione properly outnumbered.”

Draco shook his head, “Weasley is one of us.”

Harry looked pleased, “You reckon?”

“Definitely.” 

The kettle whistled and Harry poured tea into the poodle mug and handed it to Draco before turning back to the cabinets to forage for breakfast, “How are you feeling?”

Draco shrugged, “Bit wobbly. Better than usual, though. Toad helped.” 

“Good. You look good.”

“Do I? Well, thank Pipsy. I had a very nice breakfast.” 

Harry laughed, “Good. I’m glad other people are contributing to the feed up Draco Malfoy campaign I’ve started.” 

“This is why my mother likes you.” 

Harry reached out and rested a hand on Draco’s elbow, “I’m glad you’re all right.”

Draco breathed in through his nose, “Thanks. So’m I.”

“Do you think you might like to go up in the air again soon?” Harry asked hopefully. 

“Yes,” Draco nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Harry smiled, “Maybe next week?”

“Yes, next week. Write me.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s elbow, “I will.” 

…

“Pipsy?” 

Pipsy paused with one hand on her coat and turned to look at him, “Yes, Draco? Are you needing more headache potion?”

Draco worried a corner of his robes between his fingers and kicked the leg of his kitchen stool, “My friend told me about erm. My friend told me about Healers at St Mungo’s that help you with erm. If. If you’re having trouble sleeping and your. Your brain has gone a bit funny. Do you. Know anything about that?”

“Oh yes,” said Pipsy at once. “Many wizards are needing this type of help. Would you like for me to book you an appointment?”

“Yes,” said Draco, looking up briefly from his fidgeting. “I would.” 

“Okay! I can tell you your appointment time tomorrow. Good night, Draco.”

“Thanks. Good night, Pipsy.”

…

Healer Baer was not at all what Draco was expecting. If he’d had to have a guess in advance of his appointment, Draco might have imagined an elderly wizard with wispy white hair and a pompous manner. Healer Baer was young--Draco thought within a decade or so of his own age--and brown with a mop of curly hair, and she wore a pair of remarkably thick wire frame spectacles. Her green healer’s robes were more moss than lime. And more importantly, she was frank, kind, and practical. Draco liked her at once, which was good because the brain sorting process made him feel half a dozen different sorts of guilty and embarrassed. 

“Nice to meet you, Draco. Could you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Draco palmed the arms of his chair and considered. It was odd being asked about himself as if everyone didn’t already know. “I’m twenty. I. I’ve got Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration NEWTs. Erm. Live with my mum. My dad died a couple of years ago. I’ve got lycanthropy. I expect that’s down in my paperwork already,” he added. His left arm itched, but he didn’t scratch it. 

Healer Baer’s quill hovered over her parchment, “What brings you in?”

Draco licked his lips, “I. I’ve been. Er. Finding it difficult organising my thoughts. For rather a long time actually. Makes me feel sort of. Stuck. I don’t know what to do with myself. I suppose that’s a stupid reason to see a Healer.” 

Healer Baer scribbled and shook her head, “That’s quite common. We ought to be able to sort it out between us! When people need help, they come to me, and I help them as best I can, or sometimes I send them on to someone else who might be more qualified to their situation. As long as you’re ready to accept help, you’re in the right place. Are you sleeping all right? How many hours each night would you say on average?”

“Loads. Ten or eleven,” said Draco apologetically. “More after the full moon. And I’ll have a lie down after lunch.”

“Mm, and do you feel rested with that amount of sleep, or do you still feel tired?”

Draco shrugged, “A bit tired. Sometimes really tired. Sort of fuzzy.” 

“Hmm. That could be down to a lot of things. Lycanthropic transformations are a real energy sink. Any headache?”

“Yeah, ‘specially after the full moon. My carer has me on headache potions for them.”

“I see. Cold hands and feet?”

“Cold hands and feet?” Draco frowned. “I suppose so. My house is draughty. Stone floors.”

Healer Baer smiled, “I suspect we’ll want to get you on some ferrous potions and see if that helps your energy a bit. I apologise in advance; they’re a bit nasty, but I really want you to take them, Draco. Iron-deficiency’s common in lycanthropes. We’re not sure why. How’s your appetite?”

“Fine.” Draco tried not to smile, “Better than it was. I’ve got this erm. A friend who likes to cook things for me. His food is really nice.” 

“Oh lovely! Lean into that appetite, Draco. Plenty of meat and fish and eggs. We’ve got a pamphlet for lycanthropy patients about how to make sure your meals are nutritious enough. I can send you home with one. Eating properly’s incredibly important for managing the condition.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the things my carer’s helping me with.”

“Oh great!” Healer Baer turned a page of her notes. “Tell me about your friend. Do you get to see much of him?” 

“Yes, he turns up quite often. He says being alone all the time will drive me mad.”

“Something in that,” said Healer Baer lightly. “Are there other people you like to spend time with?”

Draco shook his head, “Not really.” 

“What about your family? Things all right with your mum? You said you live with her?”

Draco shrugged, “That’s one of the things that feels stuck.”

Healer Baer wrote busily on her parchment, “Stuck how so?”

“There are a lot of things,” said Draco slowly. “It’s complicated. I suppose. Where it starts. My. Both my parents. I don’t know where it starts. I don’t know if it’s. Mainly the war. Or before the war when I was a kid. Or maybe the lycanthropy? It all seems so tangled up, and I don’t know where to start properly. It’s all mixed up.”

“It’s generally all mixed up,” said Healer Baer kindly. 

“I don’t even know what exactly I want to say to my mum, but. It feels so. Big. That I can’t say much of anything else either. Like there’s something in the way. Like there’s a wall between my thoughts and my mouth.” 

Healer Baer was silent for a long time, and Draco wondered if he weren’t allowed to have finished speaking for the moment. “For homework,” she said suddenly, reminding him vividly of Professor McGonagall. “I want you to write a letter to your mother. No need to send it or hand it in or anything. You’re just trying to work out what wants saying. Try and knock that wall down. Next time we might talk a bit more about your goals? What do you think of Thursdays at three o’clock?”

“I can do that. Except for just after the full moon. I need about a week.”

“Three times a month, then. We’re out of time now, Draco, but I’ll see you again soon. Write your letter. And just see Dana on the way out about the ferrous potion.”

…

~~Dear Mum,~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~

~~Mother, ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~Dear Mother, ~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

...

  
  


**When do we fly again?**

**I want to see you.**

_ You used to bribe me with food.  _

**And now I don’t need to because you like me in my own right.**

**Lucky for you, I like cooking.**

**Come round to mine after we’re through, and I’ll feed you another of those steaks you inhaled before.**

_ Name the day.  _

**Is tomorrow too soon?**

_ Tomorrow will do.  _

**See you then.**

**Good night ☽**

**…**

Harry turned up in the kitchen fire around ten o’clock in the morning, dressed in his Quidditch robes, “Good morning. Are you ready to go?” 

Draco gestured to his own Quidditch robes, stood, and shouldered his broomstick, “Good morning. I am indeed ready to go. I have nearly adult level timekeeping abilities.”

Harry laughed, “Is that a slight directed at me, Draco Malfoy?” 

“A slight? On you? From me?” Draco prodded Harry toward the door with the handle of his broomstick, “Why should anyone have anything to say about your constant tardiness?”

Harry rested his hand on the broomstick as they made their way through the house to the front door, “I’m going I’m going.”

It had looked gloomy and cloudy from inside the house, but it was not. It was horribly hot and muggy with an ugly, muddy sky overhead. Draco squinted up at the low, dark clouds doubtfully. 

“They’ll burn off,” Harry mounted the broom. 

“We’ll see,” Draco got on in front of him and kicked off. “I think I’m already sweating.” 

“It’s good for you, sweating,” Harry said in Draco’s ear, one arm about his waist. “You get that nice healthy glow.” 

It did not take either of them long to surpass the healthy glow phase in sweating. Presently Harry squeezed Draco’s side and spoke into his ear again, “I’m boiling; are you boiling?”

“Boiling,” Draco agreed.

“Think we might take a break and have some water? I’m parched; I need to cool off.”

“Sure,” Draco began his descent, then pulled up a bit. “There’s actually a swimming hole nearby. A little ways from the groundskeeper’s cottage.”

“Oh brilliant! I could do with a swim. We won’t disturb the groundskeeper if we go?”

Draco shook his head, “There isn’t one anymore. Cottage is empty now. Off we go, then.” 

They sailed a little ways over the ground til Draco spotted the swimming hole and took them down toward it. They were barely off the broom when Harry kicked off his boots, carefully pocketed his glasses, pulled off his socks and his robes and, with a happy shriek and a tremendous splash, plunged into the swimming hole, naked as the day he was born. 

“CHRIST that’s cold!” 

“I’d have had time to warn you if you had been the teensiest bit more conservative about getting in,” said Draco, who was still undoing his bootlaces. 

Harry slapped the surface of the pool to send a great splash at Draco, “Get  _ in! _ ” 

“I’m coming in,” said Draco with dignity, shedding his robes. “I was the one who suggested the swimming hole if you recall.” He edged into the chill water up to his knees. 

“Get in properly,” Harry splashed him again, a great huge wave of water that caught him in the face and soaked his hair, making him splutter. Harry grinned, “Whoops.” 

“You did that on purpose!” Draco pushed his sodden hair out of his eyes and lunged at Harry, who laughed and dived below the surface of the pool into a handstand, sending his legs up above his own head. Draco shoved hard at Harry’s dripping legs to knock him down. 

Harry collapsed then righted himself, grinning all over, “Help! Murder! I’m drowning!” Draco splashed him and he splashed back, “If I minded getting wet, would I be in here in the first place?” 

“Fine,” said Draco loftily. “I’ll just try and set a good example. Much good may it do us.” And he turned onto his back and floated serenely, looking up at the sky and squinting against the dazzling bright patches in the great, puffy, grey clouds overhead. 

Harry turned onto his own back beside Draco with a little sigh of pleasure, “This is lovely.” 

“It’s just a hole in the ground with some incredibly cold water in.”

“And yet it’s still lovely. I meant the afternoon, anyway. It’s lovely. I’m having a nice time, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Draco admitted after a moment. 

“It’s amazing how many nice things there are in the world, isn’t it? Good things to do and see. I’d never known before. Not really. Even the good things before. Seemed like. There might be something nasty hiding inside or just round the corner.  _ You _ know.” 

Draco sort of shivered and felt his arm for gooseflesh but there was none. “Yes,” he said presently. “I do know.” 

Harry sighed happily. They floated together in companionable quiet for a while, the shivery gooseflesh feeling reigniting in Draco every time their shoulders bumped. 

“I have decided to accept that you like me,” announced Draco presently. 

Harry laughed, “What brought you round?”

“Just-” the rest of Draco’s sentence faded from his lips under a roll of thunder. He swiveled to tread water and look up at the sky and Harry did the same. 

“Do you reckon-” there was another crack of thunder and a bright flash of lightning, and it began to pour down rain in fat, pelting drops. 

“We could get hit by lightning! Out of the water!” Harry bellowed, and they both sprang onto the shore and pulled their already soaked robes onto their still soaking bodies and stuffed their soggy stocking feet into their squelching boots. 

“Let’s head for the cottage,” Draco yelled over another thunderclap and the rattle of the rain on the surface of the water. They set off toward the cottage at a run and found its windows boarded up and its door chained shut. 

Harry whipped out his wand as they reached it, “Diffindo!” When the chains fell neatly aside, he jabbed his wand again, “Alohomora.” The door swung gently open, and they both rushed in. 

The inside of the cottage was dark and dust muffled, and the front room was empty save a low stack of old crates piled on the other side of the room near the hearth. 

Draco pulled out his own wand and pointed it at the cold fireplace, “Incendio.” It ignited at once. 

“I should let Pipsy know where we are, or she’ll do her nut,” Harry did something complicated with his wand and a massive silvery horned shape burst out of it and glided silently through the wall. 

“Was that a Patronus?” Draco made for the fireplace. The flames were cheery and cast a pleasant golden light, but they certainly weren’t doing much to warm and dry him from all the way across the room. “I’ve never managed one of those myself. Not a corporeal one anyway.” 

Harry waved his wand and a Drying charm gusted over them both, leaving Draco dry all over and warm down to his toes. “Really? You’re quite good at magic.”

Draco shrugged and leaned over the fire, his hands held out to feel the heat, “I had other things on my mind when we were meant to be learning.” 

Harry had crossed the room also and was suddenly quite close. The toes of his boots were against Draco’s. He still smelled of the fresh swimming hole water, and Draco felt a renewed wolfish urge to push his face into Harry’s fragrant places, “I can show you. If you like.” 

And then they were kissing. Harry’s hands and lips were cold when they first met Draco’s skin, still it seemed as if something fantastically warm were growing between them. 

Draco drew back, already breathing hard, “Are you showing me now? Do it again; I wasn’t looking properly.” 

Harry laughed a sweet, rather wheezy giggle that sent skitters of pleasure up and down Draco’s neck. “Sorry,” his voice was raspy. “I’ll try again slower this time.” And he slipped an arm about Draco’s waist to hold him closer and kissed him again. His mouth was languid, luxurious, and its leisurely manner was undercut entirely by Harry’s hand scrabbling at the side of Draco’s robes as if they might part for him to offer up the bare skin underneath. Draco became aware of Harry’s erection pressing against his hip and moaned softly. 

Harry drew back, “Sorry, I. Give me a moment.” His lovely curls were a frizzed up mess, his mouth was plump and shining from being kissed, and his pupils were so huge in the dim room that his eyes looked dark with only crescents of their usual brilliant green visible. He was so pretty that it made Draco’s stomach hurt. 

Draco licked his lips, “Have I done something wrong?”

“No! Nothing wrong. I just. Don’t want to rush you.” 

“You’re not,” Draco looked pointedly at Harry’s erection. “I’d be happy to look after that for you. If you want.” 

Harry’s eyes went very wide, and he nodded and swallowed, and Draco nosed his throat indulgently--he smelled wonderful--and sucked sharp kisses around his Adam’s apple.

Then he lowered himself to his knees on the dusty floor and raised the hem of Harry’s robes, “Hold this for me please,” he tucked it into Harry’s hand, and Harry laughed. 

Harry swayed a little, groped for a wall, “Wait, I need somewhere to sit down first. If I finish standing up, I’ll fall on you.” 

“How wonderfully flattering,” Draco looked round at the stack of crates and Transfigured one into a low stool with a back. 

Harry shuffled backward toward the stool, still holding the edge of his robes, and when he sat, he tossed them over his shoulder. Draco followed after Harry on his knees and settled himself comfortably between Harry’s parted thighs. He smiled up at Harry, then without breaking eye contact, spat into his own cupped palm. 

Harry shivered, “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Mmm,” Draco agreed, taking Harry’s lovely cock in his wet hand. He skimmed a teasing thumb over the head just for the pleasure of seeing Harry jump, then took it into his mouth. Harry sighed through his nose and gripped the edges of the stool in both hands, which Draco found quite encouraging. He pulled off at once to lick the head. Harry squeaked, and Draco couldn’t help giggling into Harry’s lap. He pinched his thigh to make up for it. 

Harry laughed a little breathlessly, “Vicious. Get on with it.”

“ _ Don’t _ be funny, or we’ll be here all night,” And Draco put his mouth on Harry’s cock again to stop him answering back. Draco bobbed and slurped and squeezed, and Harry clung to his seat and tried not to squirm and moaned so sweetly that Draco was obliged to spare one hand to attend to his own cock. 

“Ahhh-I’m-oh fuck! I’m,” Harry tugged at the shoulder of Draco’s robes in warning, and Draco hummed his approval and pulled almost off to suck hard on the head. Harry came with a groan and a deep shudder that nearly sent him tumbling off the stool, and Draco grinned up at him before rising up on his knees, still clutching at Harry’s leg with one hand, and stroking himself off. 

Draco wobbled back down into sitting position, his heart speeding, and rested his head on Harry’s knee. Harry stroked Draco’s hair so tenderly that Draco was afraid to look up at him. There was a funny prickling behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut and hugged Harry’s leg, and relished the softness of Harry’s hand in his hair. 

Presently, there was a whisper of fabric as Harry adjusted his robes and pulled out his wand, “Evanesco.” Harry vanished the little mess Draco had left in the dust and slid off his stool to sit on the floor beside Draco. “Do you think there might be a teabag anywhere in here? I could really murder a cup of tea.” 

“Let’s have a rummage and see,” Draco pushed himself to his feet. “Now you mention it, I’m quite thirsty. Can’t think why.” And he basked under the warmth of Harry’s answering laughter. 


	4. Chapter 4

**That was really nice.**

**I had such a lovely day with you. All of it, not just the cottage bit.**

**I can’t stop smiling.**

_ Yes.  _

**Can I see you tomorrow?**

**I want to take you to the cinema.**

_ I might be a bit soggy tomorrow. Today was rather a big day for me compared with my typical daily agenda of halfhearted revision for my DADA resit and falling asleep when I hadn’t meant to.  _

**Oh. Sorry. Didn’t think.**

_ I could come round yours, though and you could explain to me who or what a cinema is, if you like.  _

_ And I could alienate your dog’s affections.  _

**Perfect.**

**Should I come and collect you?**

_ No need; I can come to yours under my own steam.  _

**I like collecting you.**

_ Then who am I to stop you? _

**Dinner or lunch, then?**

_ Whichever you like. I’m famously easy to please.  _

**I hope it isn’t rude that I’m laughing at that.**

_ On the contrary, failing to laugh at my jokes is a finable offence.  _

**I’ll try and bear that in mind.**

_ See that you do.  _

**I don’t suppose there’s any point in seeing if you’ll come for Exploding Snap on Thursday?**

**Not to pester.**

_ I’ve actually got something to do on Thursday.  _

_ I’m going to St. Mungo’s.  _

**Oh.**

**Are you all right?**

_ Well yes. I’m not ill.  _

_ I mean obviously I am ill, but it isn’t that.  _

_ It’s the wonky brain.  _

_ I’ve actually been once already, and my Healer reckons I should come back every week for a while.  _

**Oh excellent! How do you like them?**

**Your Healer, I mean.**

_ All right so far.  _

_ She set me a bit of homework last time, so I’ve been banging my head against it. _

**What did she ask you to do?**

**Hope you don’t mind me asking.**

_ She wants me to write a letter to my mum. Not to send, just to work out what I want to say to her.  _

_ I have no idea where to start.  _

**Dear Mum,**

_ I’m not even sure about that! I’ve never called her Mum.  _

**Don’t worry about that. Just start. It’s just for you, anyway. No one’s going to mark it.**

_ Dear Mum,  _

_ Did you mean me to be an idiot on purpose? Because I don’t know how to do anything!  _

_ Dear Mum,  _

_ Did you think the second rise of You Know Who would be more fun than the first one?  _

_ Dear Mum,  _

_ Sometimes I think you’re glad I got bitten, because it means I can’t leave this fucking mausoleum of a house.  _

_ Dear Mum,  _

_ No, I don’t miss my father. Why in fuck’s name would I miss my father? _

**Seems like quite a decent start to me.**

_ Thank you!  _

_ My rage is not as directionless as I thought.  _

**Good luck at your appointment. Hope it goes well.**

_ Thank you. So do I.  _

…

Dear Mother, 

I know I’m meant to be grateful to you. I feel tremendous pressure to be grateful to you. I know you want to keep me safe and you wish I could be well again. Or maybe you don’t. If I were well, I doubt I would still be here in your house, and I suppose you must doubt it also. It doesn’t really matter either way. Whatever either of us feel about it, this is my life now. 

I know I’m meant to be grateful to you, but I’m actually so furious. You should have looked after me better! You were running round with You-Know-Who when he first came to power before I was even born, and you should have known you’d never be able to keep me safe while trying to ride his coattails. You did know, and you didn’t care. I should have been more important to you. I would say how could I forgive that, but you’ve never asked me to forgive you, and I don’t even think you know I have things to forgive. 

That’s what makes me feel most like I’m losing my mind. My life, my ENTIRE life not just the last few years since I was bitten, has been such awful shit that I can’t even find words or give any shape to it. It’s an infinite, formless void of shit. I don’t even know where to start. And to you, it’s like it doesn’t exist, and it’s nothing, not worth remembering or talking about. You never raised me to participate in the world, because you assumed we’d always be above it, and that is such awful shit! How do you not care? How do you walk around after everything and not think it’s worth talking about? Maybe you think you look good next to my father and you DON’T! Anyway, I’ll never get to have a go at him, will I? It’s just you and me now. 

I don’t know what I want from you. I don’t know what I want at all. I don’t think I even know what my options are. If you think I’m not going to live my own life, and I’m just going to carry on being a little prop in one of your watercolour still lifes, you’re dreaming. I have no interest in being your ruined legacy. There is more in the world than this. I’m not a relic. 

...

“I’ve worked out what I want,” Draco announced, taking his seat across from Healer Baer. 

“Tell me!” she hadn’t even got her quill and notebook out yet, but she was leaning forward in genuine eager excitement. 

“I.” Draco rubbed his hands together. Though it had seemed quite a solidly thingish thing inside his head, actually putting it into words was another matter, “Erm well. I have this friend who’s like. A really good person. Really. Brave. And forgiving. And really kind. And I. I want to be the sort of person who fits into his life. Not someone who. People see us together and think ergh, what’s  _ he _ doing going round with someone like Draco Malfoy?”

Healer Baer nodded, “Mm, and what’s fitting into his life mean? You want to be brave, kind, forgiving? All that?”

“Right, exactly. I think it erm. It may help me sort of. Come unstuck. You know? Like I was saying before about not knowing what to do with myself. I think. This is something to do? A start anyway.”

“A start, yes! Positive influences are so important, and they can be hugely beneficial. In terms of that influence.” She waggled her quill without writing anything, considering, “I would advise you to. Think carefully about the qualities you want to emulate and focus on those qualities as opposed to trying to resemble any specific person. You don’t want to idealise your friend. He may be lovely, but you won’t do either of you any favours by taking his life or his personality as a template. Think about what brave and kind and forgiving look like in the context of your own life and your own experiences and your goals for yourself.” 

“Right,” Draco half-laughed nervously. “Now I’ve just got to sort myself out some goals.”

“And there’s your homework for next time! Speaking of which, how’s that letter to your mum coming?”

“Not bad, actually. I was a bit, ha. A bit stuck, but H--erm my friend--helped me come unstuck.” 

“Oh wonderful! Do you want to talk about that?”

Draco thought about it, “Not just yet. I’m still working on it.”

“All right, we can come back to that later on. Tell me about your sleeping!”

…

“ _ Gaaaah! _ ” After getting home from his session with Healer Baer, Draco had hiked out to look for his broomstick when he was startled by an owl. Harry’s owl Hestia landed gracefully on his shoulder, catching him in the mouth with her wing and grasping him with reproachful talons at his undignified shouting. 

“I suppose you fancied a visit,” Draco grumbled, reaching up to stroke Hestia’s lovely head. She held out her leg to show him the scroll of parchment tied to it with a very officious air. “All right, yes.” Draco untied the parchment, “Thank you. I promise to come and have a chat next time I’m visiting.” Hestia seemed to appreciate that. She bit his ear affectionately and took off after a rabbit that had the misfortune to run by. 

Draco squinted at the note. The handwriting was appalling.

_ DRACO,  _

_ We’ve moved Snap to Friday (tomorrow), so you MUST come and play with us. Muggle clothes. See you there at 7!  _

  
  


No matter how long he squinted at the signature, he couldn’t make it out. Oggie? He tried to remember if there were any Gryffindors called Oggie as he trudged back to the house with his broom over his shoulder. Some close friend of Harry’s, apparently. Asked to make contact on his behalf. The muggle clothes note was a little concerning as well. On his way up to his room, Draco stopped in the kitchen and availed himself of the Floo. 

“Harry?” he called into Harry’s dark kitchen. “Harry, are you there?” 

From somewhere in the house came the skittery sound of canine toenails on the linoleum and a moment later, Toad came barreling into the room, followed closely by Harry. 

Harry lit up when he saw Draco, “Hello!”

“Hi,” Draco was momentarily distracted by Toad’s rushing up to lick his face. “I’m here to accept your invitation to Exploding Snap tomorrow night.”

“Brilliant,” Harry hip-checked Toad out of the way and bent toward Draco, then hesitated, “Could I have a kiss?”

Draco swallowed a smile and pretended to consider, “What’ll you give me for it?”

Harry laughed, “You want something in exchange? I’ll give you a kiss for a kiss.”

“Well I can’t say that’s not a fair bargain,” Draco raised his chin to receive and to supply his kiss. 

Harry straightened up, so starry-eyed that Draco blushed just looking at him, “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

Draco licked his lips, “Yes, well. Couldn’t hold out forever. I actually wanted to ask a favour also. Could I borrow muggle clothes from you again?”

“Sure, just come round a bit early, and we can sort you out something. Erm. Draco,” Harry looked suddenly shy, and he reached out to pat Toad’s hip. 

“Yeah?”

“You think you might like to. Stay over afterward? Spend the night?”

“Stay here with you? Stay the night? Sleep. With you. In your bed.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Harry added hastily. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

“Yes,” said Draco loudly, deciding that he needed to withdraw from the fire before his whole head combusted from the shock of unexpected affection. “Absolutely. I’ll bring my toothbrush. Gotta go. My leg’s starting to cramp. See you tomorrow, Harry.”

“Tomorrow,” and Harry bent and kissed him again. “Excellent.” 

…

Draco arrived the next day in Harry’s kitchen fire around half past six. Harry was not there. Toad was asleep in a basket against the wall near the table, but there was definitely no Harry.

Draco looked stupidly around the kitchen as if Harry might be hiding in a cabinet, “Harry?” He went out into the sitting room, “Harry? Where are you?” 

“He’s at work,” Ginny Weasley descended into the sitting room from a flight of stairs that Draco was not yet familiar with. “He’ll be home in a couple of hours. He said you’ll know where his bedroom is and you can help yourself to whatever.” 

Draco frowned, “At work? Doesn’t this thing start in half an hour?”

Ginny shrugged, “Approximately.” 

Draco imagined a couple of hours surrounded by Harry’s friends but no Harry and felt sickish, “I should come back later.”

Ginny laughed, “Don’t be stupid! You’re not afraid of me, are you? I’m not gonna eat you!”

“Not afraid of being eaten,” said Draco irritably. “Just socially awkward.” 

“All right then. Go on up and get yourself dressed, and then you can help me sort out the snacks.”

“Yes, Mum,” Draco made for the stairs anyway. 

“Wrong way,” said Ginny, pointing behind her with her thumb. “You’ll want the stairs that are up from the kitchen, or you’ll get lost up there and wake someone up.”

Draco reversed course, “Wake someone up?” 

“Horrible old cow of a portrait in the corridor. Used to live here, and she really despises us all being here. We can’t get her portrait down, not even the muggle ways. George and Lee took turns with a jimmy last time they were here, and nothing! Mum took away my hatchet. Harry threatens to tear down the whole wall when she really gets to him. She likes to say nasty things about his godfather.” 

Ginny looked rather cross herself at the idea, “Sensitive subject. He died. She might like you, though. I think she’s a sort of cousin of yours like a thousand times removed; she’s old as dirt. Oh, but you’re a blood traitor now, eh?” Ginny gave Draco a fond sort of whack on his arm as he passed by. “Welcome to the club! She’ll  _ hate  _ you!” 

Draco laughed uneasily. He reckoned he understood most of that, “Thanks.” 

“Through the kitchen, up the stairs, way down the corridor, very last door you come to on the left.”

“Yeah, thanks I have actually been there before.”

“I know,” said Ginny, and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

…

Once he’d dressed, Draco found Ginny in the kitchen tossing chunks of melon into a cauldron. She looked up from her work when he came in, “As I live and breathe! Look who’s dressed like a muggle! Suits you. You look really fit in all black, if you’ll take a dyke’s word on it.”

Something clicked in Draco’s brain, “Oh my god.  _ You’re _ Oggie.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose, “Oggie? Is that an insult?”

“No, your note. You sent the note inviting me! I can’t read your handwriting; I thought your signature said Oggie.”

Ginny tilted her head back and let out a blast of laughter like cannon fire, “Oggie! That’s hilarious. Will you not be boiling in all those layers? Gets quite hot down here when the room fills up. Lose the cardigan, I’d say. You don’t need it.” 

“Well, I sort of do need it, actually. Short sleeves are not really a good look for me,” Draco shoved up his sleeve to show her the faded Dark Mark on his left forearm, deformed and distorted by the pink and silver bite scar stretched over it.

Ginny went still and quiet for a moment, “We’re all of us a bit roughed up, yeah? Bit battered. You won’t win any ugly scar competitions round here, I’m afraid. But please yourself.” 

Draco pushed his sleeve down, remembering suddenly that Ginny had been dragged into the Chamber of Secrets and nearly killed, not so many years ago. The memory sparked a glimmer of kinship. “Thanks,” he told her. She nodded. Draco cleared his throat, “What are you making?” He nodded to the cauldron. 

“Punch!” Ginny ladled some up and handed Draco the ladle. “Taste.” 

Draco obeyed, “It’s nice.” 

Ginny tasted it as well and smacked her lips, “Needs vodka.” And she tipped some in. 

…

Hermione Granger was first to arrive, clutching a large pink box with a bit of gold string tied round it and looking stressed and stooped under a bag bulging with books and parchment but still scrupulously punctual. Draco wondered how it was that she was still doing homework, two years on from leaving school. She’d evidently let herself in through the front door but she halted on the threshold of the kitchen, surprised to find Ginny and Draco chatting comfortably and preparing the cheese tray. 

“Oh,” she dropped her book bag over the back of an empty chair and massaged her temples, “It’s you.” 

“Yeah,” said Draco. “Sorry. Og-Ginny invited me.”

“It’s a free country,” Hermione shrugged and set the box on the table, “Rose macarons. From that place you like, Ginny. Madam Rosamund’s Titchy Witchy Bites.” 

“Oooh I love those!” Ginny pulled the box toward herself for a peek at the macarons, “They make me feel like I’m eating those fancy soaps.” She looked at Draco, “I love pink. Looks a fright with my hair, though. Too bad.” 

“I’d imagine you can get away with looking a fright, Oggie,” Draco told her. “I don’t think anyone’d dare say anything.” 

Ginny laughed, then looked thoughtful, “Thanks.” 

Draco looked round at Hermione, “I really am sorry.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, “Are you?”

“I am,” said Draco fervently. “I really am.” He added, “I don’t really. I don’t expect you to care if I’m sorry or not but erm. I am. And. I’m not going to cause you any more trouble. I. I promise.” 

Hermione snorted rather scornfully in an I’d-like-to-see-you-try sort of way and half-turned so that her back was to them. Draco remained meekly silent for a moment. 

“Erm,” said Draco when it seemed that no one else would speak. “Should we put the macarons on a pl-”

“Listen to me, Draco Malfoy,” Hermione hissed, whipping round to face them again and sending her puffy plait flying. “Harry Potter is family to us, and if you do anything at all-” she paused to grope for words, “ _ ungentlemanly-” _

“You might be a bit late for that,” put in Ginny. “If you mean sex.” 

“If you  _ hurt _ him,” Hermione continued, taking no notice of Ginny.

“I won’t! Of course not, no, I won’t. I won’t.” 

Hermione huffed through her nose, “See that you don’t.”

“I won’t,” said Draco again. Then, “You can be angry with me er. Just for yourself and not for Harry. It’s all right.” 

“I know I can! Don't you patronise me, Draco Malfoy!”

“I'm not! I mean. Sorry! I don't mean to. I really. I really don’t want to be a er.” Draco paused and a certain phrase slid into his mind, “A foul, evil, loathsome, little cockroach.” 

“See that you aren’t,” she turned away again. 

Draco leaned toward Ginny and whispered, “Did he tell you? Harry, I mean. About the. You know.”

Ginny shook her head, “Not a word. I just had a hunch going from the dither he was in after you said you’d come tonight.”

“Mm,” Draco tried to look very neutral, but he wasn’t sure he managed it.

Hermione went and fetched herself a butterbeer and petted Toad, and she seemed calmer when she came back to the table to arrange the macarons on a plate in neat, pink, concentric circles while Draco helped Ginny with the crudite. 

“You’re looking better than when I last saw you,” Hermione remarked a little stiffly. 

Draco glanced at Ginny.

“I think she means you,” Ginny stage-whispered. 

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. Feeling fine. Thanks for asking.”

“What happened last time?” Ginny popped a baby carrot into her mouth. 

“I had a lycanthropic transformation in the sitting room,” Draco had a baby carrot also. 

Ginny gaped, “What just like that?” 

“Nope, bit of screaming and panicking first. Me, not them.”

“We were out of Floo powder,” Hermione added. “So he couldn’t get away fast enough to transform at home.” 

“Wow!” Ginny chinned her hand, “So what did you do?” 

Draco tried to put his right hand in his jeans pocket to stop himself rubbing his arm, “I transformed here, and Harry took me home after. He carried me. Like that.”

“How,” Ginny caught eyes with Hermione, grinning. “How gentlemanly.” Hermione cracked a tiny smile. 

Draco smiled too. “Harry’s the nicest person I’ve ever met,” he confessed. 

“Well, yes!” said Hermione in a der-ish sort of voice. “He’s the nicest person anyone’s met.”

…

Harry’s friends had evidently picked up his habit of being late, because at seven o’clock, the only other person who had turned up was Ron. Over the next hour, other people trickled in, including Ron and Ginny’s eldest brother Bill and his beautiful wife Fleur, a very handsome and dimly familiar young man who--according to Ginny’s whispers--had been in Draco’s year in Slytherin but had changed his name for reasons Draco couldn’t grasp until he shyly introduced himself as Evan Bulstrode, Ernie MacMillan, who spent the whole night trying to chat up Evan, and Ginny’s girlfriend Luna Lovegood. There was a wireless on somewhere, and Draco quite enjoyed the music, though he didn’t know any of the songs. 

Luna was the last to arrive before Harry, and she perched herself on Ginny’s knee and talked earnestly to Draco about the connection between lycanthropes and kneazles. Draco clutched at his good manners with both hands and refrained from remarking that he’d never had any particular affinity with kneazles. Harry finally turned up around a quarter past eight, to a chorus of cheerful greetings. Draco jumped up from the sofa when Harry entered, slopping some of Ginny’s melon punch down his front and drawing knowing smirks from Ginny. 

“As you were,” Harry called over everyone’s head, making his way straight to Draco.

“Hello,” said Draco a little too loudly under the influence of the bit of the punch that hadn’t spilled. 

“Hi,” Harry grinned at him and reached out to squeeze his elbow. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Thanks. I notice no one’s playing any cards. I reckon you have the deck on you?” Draco patted Harry’s pockets, “Ah bad luck, you must have left them at the office.” 

Harry laughed, “The game’s more like a pretense than anything else.” He looked round at his friends, “Anyone bored? Want to get an actual game of Exploding Snap going with Draco? He feels a bit cheated.” There was a polite though rather distracted titter among the assembled guests, but nobody made any sort of proper answer. “Sorry Draco,” said Harry with a shrug. 

“I didn’t know you had a job, by the way. What is it that you do, exactly?” Draco sank back onto the sofa, pulling Harry along with him and caused a little to-do by crashing into Luna and nearly making Harry overbalance into Ginny’s lap. 

“I work in a bookshop,” said Harry, when he’d recovered his dignity and found a seat that didn’t already have a woman in it. 

“Oh,” Draco was even more surprised to hear that. “I’d’ve thought you’d still be saving the world somehow and here you’re at Flourish and Blotts. Must be good for business having Harry Potter working there.”

Harry shook his head, “It’s a muggle bookshop, actually. Bluestocking Books. They do love me there, though. But I just get to be plain old Harry and not good-for-business-chosen-one Harry Potter.” He grinned, “Dnno if I’ve mentioned this, Draco but I’m actually engaged to a middle-aged muggle woman called Mary. Hope you don’t mind.”

Draco frowned, his brain a little punch sluggish, “You. What?”

Harry laughed, “Only joking. She’s the manager, and she adores me.”

Draco laughed also, “I was about to ask if that’s typical for muggles. Hire someone and then marry them. Seems a very odd way of doing business.”

“Has anyone proposed to you at your job, Hermione?” asked Ron from his spot near the stairs where he was gooseberrying Ernie and Evan by insisting on also playing with Toad. 

“No,” said Hermione. “But I’d probably turn them into a stoat if they did.” 

Ron grinned, “Good girl.” 

“ _ Not _ for your sake, Ronald!”

“Who else has got a muggle job?” Draco asked. “Where did you all learn how to do muggle things? Has Harry been pushing his culture on you?”

“It’s actually quite common in our generation,” said Bill, offering Fleur a macaron. “Especially among my lot.” 

“Your lot?” Draco slid down the sofa to hear Bill better. 

“Lycanthropes,” Bill explained. “I don’t transform, but I was bitten, so they added me to the registry when I had my injuries treated at St. Mungo’s. Appalling violation of privacy if you ask me, but it’s the law.”

“Hear hear,” said Draco, who had never much worried about the registry since he’d never expected to have to work. 

“Anyway, I’ve kept my job at Gringotts, since goblins don’t give a damn about that stuff, but. For most of us, it’s damn near impossible to find decently-paying, steady work among wizards. So lycanthropes are either forced onto the sidelines here in the Wizarding world or disappear into the muggle world. Ironically that actually makes them far more dangerous, since losing touch with the Wizarding world makes it that much harder to take the wolfsbane potion regularly. Still some people reckon it’s better than sleeping rough.”

“Can’t blame them,” muttered Draco. “That’s awful!” 

“Truly!” said Fleur huskily, “People are violently attacked and then they are very ill, and your Ministry treats them like criminals and monsters. It is disgusting.” She kissed Bill’s scarred cheek and then hid her beautiful face in his shoulder, as if she couldn’t bear the topic any longer. 

“More punch anyone?” said Ron loudly after a moment’s awkward silence. There was a little ripple of nervous laughter, then Ron actually did go round with the punchbowl and refill everyone’s mug. 

Harry prevailed upon the company to actually play Exploding Snap, as it was Draco’s first time. Things got very loud and very silly until around half past midnight when all at once, everyone seemed to simultaneously realise it was late, and they must be getting home. All the people who didn’t live there trundled off to Disapparate or walk or went into the kitchen to Floo themselves home. Ron and Hermione went off to their bedroom to argue more comfortably. 

Draco helped Harry finish the washing up, and his borrowed muggle clothes got extremely soggy down the front. 

“Mmm, we’d best get you out of those, squelchy,” Harry teased, kissing Draco on the tip of the nose. “Hope you brought your pyjamas.” 

“I,” Draco recollected ruefully the bag he’d packed and left sitting on his bed. “didn’t, actually. I didn’t bring anything with me. I even forgot my toothbrush.”

Harry laughed and steered Draco toward the stairs up to his bedroom, “A clever ploy to get your hands on my toothbrush, no doubt.”

“I’m incredibly cunning,” Draco agreed. “Stealing your toothbrush has been my aim all along.”

Draco followed Harry upstairs, and they each had a wash and brushed their teeth after Harry used a Doubling charm on his toothbrush. And then it was time for bed. 

“I’m knackered.” Harry yawned as he pulled on his blue and gold owl pyjamas, “I hope you don’t mind if we just go to sleep.” 

“Not at all,” Draco had selected a loose t shirt and a pair of Snitch-patterned shorts for his sleeping attire and was already waiting politely at the foot of the bed. “So’m I.”

“Which side of the bed do you want?” 

“I. I don’t know.” Draco felt suddenly quite nervous, “I’ve never slept in the same bed with another person before.” 

“I’ll take the right then, if you don’t mind,” Harry turned down the blankets. “So I can put my glasses on the night table.” 

They each got into bed from their own side and met in the middle. 

“Hi,” said Harry, holding out his arm. 

Draco carefully tucked himself against Harry’s body, under his outstretched arm, “This is the most surreal thing I’ve ever done in my life.” 

“Oh?” Harry kissed the top of his head. “How do you like it so far?”

Draco made a little sigh of contentment, “Very satisfactory.”

“Good,” Harry kissed the top of his head again. “Did you have a nice time tonight?”

“I did, actually. It was a bit noisy, but it was nice. I did get something out of meeting Bill Weasley. You were right.”

“Was I? I’m glad you liked him. He’s a good bloke.”

“Well yeah,” Draco turned his face into Harry’s chest so that he didn’t have to be looked at while he spoke. “But also I’d never really thought about how other lycanthropes live. I’d just. I never thought about it.” Draco fiddled silently with the edge of the duvet, and Harry petted his back through the pause. “I’m not used to thinking about other people like. Ever. I can’t just keep. Whinging about how I was cheated out of a good upbringing by having a shit family. So did you, but you’re like. An actual saint.” 

Harry stopped petting, “I’m  _ not _ a saint. Helping other people takes practice, and I muck it up as often as not.”

“At least you try!”

“Well you can try, too. Don’t shout.”

Draco took a deep breath, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s just late is all,” Harry kissed Draco’s hair again. “Well. If you shout, I’ll shout, and we’ll both be cross, and I don’t want that.”

“No, nor do I. Sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” 

Draco blew out a noisy gust of breath, “The world is really big and really fucked, and I don’t know where to start.” 

“Yeah,” Harry resumed the petting. “I know the feeling.” Draco listened to several of Harry’s heartbeats before Harry spoke again, “We might make a list.”

“A list?”

“Yeah, it’s something my Healer has me do when I’m feeling sort of overwhelmed. Make a list. You can’t like. Fix the world before you go to sleep tonight. But yknow. It’s a sort of. Agreement with yourself. You’re working on it.” 

Draco considered, “Does that help?”

“It helps me.”

“All right then. Let’s try it.” 

“I’ll need my arm for a moment,” Harry said apologetically. Draco released his arm, and Harry rummaged in the drawer of his night table and retrieved a bit of parchment and a biro, “There you are.”

“Thanks,” Draco pushed himself to sitting and raised his knee to use it for a table. After a few minutes of busy scribbling, he folded the parchment in half and held it and the biro out to Harry. “Could you look after that for me til the morning? Or could your night table, rather? I haven’t got one on this side.”

“Of course,” Harry took the parchment and put it on top of his little stack of books. 

Draco noticed the photo he’d spotted the first time he visited Harry’s bedroom. It was a picture of a young couple. A hugely pregnant woman with long, red hair and the same brilliant green eyes Harry had and a man with oversized spectacles, hazel eyes, and a puff of curly black hair even more ample than Harry’s. They were holding hands, beaming and waving at the camera. “Are those your parents?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled and handed Draco the photo. “That’s me, obviously,” he tapped the woman’s round belly. “My mum had this friend Faline who lived in the village where my parents lived when I was born, and after the war, he--Faline I mean--started writing to me. We’re like pen friends. And he sent me this.”

“Pen friends. That’s sweet.” Draco studied the picture, then looked back at Harry, “You look like them. Both of them. Funny they don’t look a thing like each other, but you look just like both of them. You’ve got your mum’s nose and mouth exactly.” 

“Yeah?” Harry felt his own nose, his eyes trained on the photo. “I suppose I do.” He smiled, “You remind me a bit of my dad, actually.”

Draco squinted at the picture, “I don’t see it.”

Harry laughed, “No, I mean I know a little about what my dad was like when he was a kid, and I think you’re quite like him.” 

Draco raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yeah, well. He spent a lot of time thinking he was better than other people, and he could do and say what he liked to them.”

Draco sagged a bit, “Ah. I see the resemblance.” 

“So at some point, he had to decide he was wrong, and he needed to change how he treated people. And he did. That wasn’t the end of who he was, because he decided to fix it. And that’s why you remind me of him a bit. You had to decide you needed a change.” 

Harry leaned toward Draco and waited til Draco had put an arm about his waist to continue, “People think. Once you do the good thing, it’s over. ‘Well thanks for sorting out Voldemort, now off you pop and be a normal kid, stupid little boy because the world is saved now, thank you very much.’ But it isn’t true! The world isn’t saved at all. There are still. Loads of things that need fixing, and I’m never going to shut up about it until they’re fixed or I’m dead!” Harry drew several long, steadying breaths. 

“They died when they were about our age, my parents did. But I’m still here because. Because they.” Harry paused. Swallowed, “I’m still here because of them. So I reckon. I owe it to them to keep at it. Keep trying to put good things in the world. Keep trying to sort out the things that are wrong with it. That’s what I want to do, as long as I’m still here. And if you want to do that as well. I’m happy to have you with me.” 

Draco didn’t know what to say to convey that he understood he’d been honoured or how to express how seriously he took that honour. He took Harry’s hand, not like a lover. Like an anxious child about to cross the road. Come with me. For the moment, it seemed to be enough.


	5. Chapter 5

“Good morning.”

Harry’s voice was in his ear as soon as Draco opened his eyes, “Have you been watching me sleep, Harry Potter?” He scoffed, “You’re so obsessed with me.” 

Harry laughed, “Not watching. Not continually anyway. And  _ you’re  _ the one lying on  _ my  _ arm.” Which was true enough. Draco wasn’t sure how Harry’s arm had got under him, but he was really enjoying being spooned. 

Draco laughed also and nestled back against Harry’s chest, “I quite like this arm. I think I’ll keep it.”

“Have it,” Harry threw the other arm over Draco’s torso for good measure and kissed his cheek. “I don’t mind.” 

Draco turned his head for a kiss on the mouth, but couldn’t quite meet Harry’s lips without changing position, “There are disadvantages to having you behind me, though.” 

“Mmm,” Harry slid his hand from Draco’s waist up to drum his finger’s on Draco’s chest. 

“Mmm what?”

Harry stroked Draco’s chest thoughtfully, “I erm. I’m not sure I ought to tell you.”

“Well now you’ve got to!” 

Harry sighed, and it was a hungry sort of sigh, his breath warm against Draco’s cheek, “I erm. I had a sex dream. About you. A little while back. The night before we actually er. Had sex, ha. And I’m sort of reminded of it right now.” 

Draco waited for Harry to continue, then saw he must need some encouragement, “Are you going to tell me more about this incredibly fascinating phenomenon?”

Harry shuffled under the bedclothes, “Well er. I dreamt we were going flying, and erm. Once we were up in the air, I.”

“Yes? You what?”

Harry nuzzled hotly against the back of Draco’s neck, “I gave you a reacharound handjob.”

“What, still flying through the air on a broomstick?”

“Well, yeah on the broomstick.”

Draco laughed, “That’s the most Gryffindor thing I ever heard of. You know you were specifically meant to  _ prevent _ me falling off my broom and breaking my neck.” 

“I knew you’d laugh!” Harry laughed as well, “It was. I mean. Are you telling me you didn’t find it even a tiny bit sexy when we flew together? A tiny bit exciting?”

“A tiny bit,” Draco allowed. 

“It was a little disappointing in the dream, though. To be honest. You know in dreams where you eat something and it tastes of nothing or you kiss someone but you can’t feel it? It was like that. Really hot at first but then when you came, it didn’t feel like anything. And I was so disappointed that I woke up.”

Draco cleared his throat, “Do you typically feel other people’s orgasms?” 

Harry laughed, “No, I mean the er. The spunk. It just felt like air. Disappointing.” 

“Mmhm,” Draco nodded sagely. “So you take a particular interest in spunk?”

“Well not an unusual amount of interest. Just. Interest, yes. I mean it’s the best part, isn’t it? Lovely and hot and slick, whew well done, me! Just look at all my accomplishments right here on my hand. Or. You know. Wherever.”

“Harry,” said Draco very solemnly. “I am prepared to indulge this interest.” 

Harry giggled into the back of Draco’s neck and swept one hand down to cup Draco’s cock through his shorts, “You’re amazingly generous.”

“Mmm maybe we should sit up? You don’t fly a broomstick lying on your side.” 

“All right,” Harry squeezed Draco to full hardness, kicked away the bedclothes, and sat up. After they’d both wriggled out of their pyjamas, Harry leaned back against the headboard, his knees spread wide. He patted the space on the bed between his splayed legs, “Sit yourself here.” 

Draco obeyed, “Technically I should be leaning forward I think, but.” He leaned back against Harry’s warm chest, “I like this better. How do you like it?”

“Brilliant,” Harry hooked his chin over Draco’s shoulder and skimmed light fingers up and down Draco’s chest, one arm wrapped around Draco’s waist, holding him in place. “I like it very much.” 

Draco shut his eyes, wet his lips, “Did your sexy sexy dream involve teasing me to distraction?” 

Harry hummed amusement and carried on with his feathery touches, “Mmm not really, but I sort of fancy it anyway.” 

“Harry,” Draco stamped one foot against the mattress. “Do I need to remind you that I’m a dangerous monster and am not to be toyed with in this way?” 

Harry snorted and rubbed Draco’s chest more firmly, “Better?”

“Bully. Horrible bully.” 

“Mmmmmm,” Harry kissed Draco’s neck, feathery light like his hand had been, his stubble rasping tingles into Draco’s skin. 

“Touch me, you bastard!” 

“I  _ am _ touching you,” Harry’s teasing fingertips alighted on Draco’s erection. Draco squirmed and leaned into the touch. “Want to spit in my hand?” He held out his cupped palm below Draco’s chin, and Draco spat into it. “Lovely,” Harry skimmed his slick hand along Draco’s cock, much more firmly than before and gave him a squeeze. 

Draco shivered, “Oooh!”

“Better?” 

“More!”

“Greedy,” Harry nipped and sucked at Draco’s throat and stroked him, slow and firm and slick, rolling foreskin tantalisingly between his fingers on the upstroke. Draco moaned and rocked and tried not to kick. Still keeping up his slow, squeezing stroking of Draco’s cock, Harry slid his other hand down from Draco’s waist to cup and pluck at his scrotum. “Oooh, this is tight. I think you might be quite close,” Harry murmured. “I could draw it out for you a bit. If you like. Or are you ready? Are you ready for me to see you come? Would you like that? I’d like it.”

“Wait,” rasped Draco. “I’ve got an idea. Lie flat on your back. I’ll straddle you.”

“Genius,” Harry hastened to comply, and Draco straddled Harry’s hips. “Closer,” Harry begged. “Up here, closer to my face, so I can see you properly.” Draco edged upward. “Closer! On my chest! Finish on my chest!” 

“Yes!” Draco stroked himself much faster and harder than Harry had, and when Harry reached between Draco’s legs and squeezed his balls, Draco finished with a yell, his come splashing over Harry’s belly and chest and even catching his lower lip. 

Harry looked up at Draco with shining eyes and licked his lips, “Brilliant. That was gorgeous; that was perfect.” He swiped his hand through the mess on his chest, “Oh well done, me.”

“And me,” Draco sagged off Harry onto the mattress, still panting. “Credit where it’s due.”

“Oh yes, well done, you!” Harry took hold of his own cock with his messy hand. “Very well done.” 

“Maybe you want to wear your glasses next time. That was a close one. Really burns if you get it in your eyes, and no, we will not be taking questions on the subject. Oh let me,” he added over Harry’s laughter. 

Harry’s cock was so hard, rosy at the head and already dribbling pre-come. Draco stroked him only a few times before taking him into his mouth, still Harry came quickly, gasping and clutching at Draco’s hair. As soon as Harry orgasmed, Draco's bonelessness reclaimed him, and he collapsed half on top of Harry and hugged him around the hips til Harry gave Draco's elbow a gentle tug to pull him back up toward the head of the bed.

“Oof,” Harry gave Draco a smacking kiss. “I don’t know about you, but I could eat about ten breakfasts.”

“Mm yes, so could I. But first, I could take about ten baths.” 

“Right, of course. Let’s see to that. One more thing first, though.”

“Yes?”

“You forgot this,” and Harry kissed him again. 

…

  
  


Draco and Harry ambled down to the kitchen freshly showered, and Harry began poking about for breakfast, “Damn, no bacon. Do you like pancakes? I can make them for you.”

“I do like pancakes, yeah,” Draco made for the kitchen table, then turned back to Harry. “Could I help? Would you teach me how to make them?”

“Sure! It’s dead easy. Come on.” Harry lined up the ingredients on the worktop and melted butter in a pan, then told Draco how much of which ingredient to add to their mixing bowl in which order to mix up their batch. It was a bit like Potions lessons, weighing out ingredients on the kitchen scales, and mixing them up til Harry reckoned they were the right consistency. 

When they began to pour dollops of the thick batter into the pan, Toad woke up in his basket and crept over looking hopeful. “Have some self respect, Toad,” Harry advised, but he made a special tiny pancake for Toad and tossed it to him anyway. “Oooh, that big one wants turning,” Harry indicated with the turner and tried to hand it to Draco. 

“This is the bit that frightens me, actually. It’s still gloopy on this side; why shouldn’t it gloop all over when I try and turn it?”

Harry laughed, “Right watch me, and then you can do that one.” He turned the largest pancake gracefully and then handed Draco the turner, “Just get the turner all the way underneath, lift it away from the pan, and flip it over quick as you can. There’s a spell Molly Weasley does to turn them, but I always start fires when I use it.” 

Draco tried to follow Harry’s instructions and glooped only a little stray batter around the edges of his pancake, “There, I did it! Sort of.” 

“Oh it does that about half the time for me still. Well done,” Harry gave Draco a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. “Erm. Draco. I was thinking.”

“Before breakfast?”

“Haha, yeah I know. Rough going. Anyway. I was thinking. I should ask you if you might like to. Stay?”

“Stay another night?” Draco’s eyes were on the third pancake, the surface of which was growing very bubbly. 

“No, I mean. Take a room and. Stay. Live here with us. There’re plenty of rooms. You could have your own space for when you’re haha feeling a bit sulky. And eventually, if you like. We might share mine. Or yours I suppose. Or choose a new one. I’m getting ahead of myself. Just. Think it over.”

Draco bit his lip, “I’d love to stay.”

“But?”

“But I need somewhere to go when I transform. Can’t very well run round London all. Like that.”

Harry thought, “Well. When Professor Lupin transformed, he’d spend the whole time in his office. I’m sure no one would mind you just hanging around the house.”

Draco shook his head, “Nothing doing. Gotta run. I used to try it like that when I first started transforming, but. No. I’ll go mad. I need somewhere to run around and be stupid. Can’t spend all my time transformed with you, anyway. I enjoy it too much; I turn into an absolute idiot.” 

Harry grinned. “We can think of something; I’m sure of it,” He dropped another kiss on Draco’s cheek. “I’d really love to have you.” Harry leaned in confidentially, “I think I’m-”

Ron came down into the kitchen at that moment, looking disheveled but cheerful, “Harry, mate, one word, two syllables. Muffliato.” Draco bent over the pan to hide his mortified face, but Harry and Ron only enjoyed a little good-natured shoving until Hermione came in with an enormous ginger cat in her arms. Ron and Harry hastily stopped shoving each other, but Hermione just tutted and put the coffee on before taking a seat at the table and releasing the cat to go and bother Toad. 

She sniffed approvingly, “Are those for everyone, Draco, or should I be lecturing Ron about eating half a box of coco puffs in one go?”

Draco was surprised to be addressed directly, but he answered by lifting the biggest pancake onto a plate and handing it to Hermione, “They’re for everyone.” 

“Thank you. Is there any honey left, Harry?” 

Harry put the honey on the table in front of Hermione and waited for her to take a bite. “Erm Hermione,” he began, his voice sweet and wheedling. “We were wondering if you might help us sort out a problem we’re having.” 

Hermione’s eyebrows went up, but she continued chewing in a not thoroughly unhelpful sort of way. 

“Draco’s thinking of taking a room here, but he’s worried about where he might go when he transforms. He needs a lot of space to run about where the muggles won’t see him, and none of our lot will bother him. Do you have any ideas?”

Hermione took another large bite of pancakes, “Could you pass me my coffee, Ron?”

Ron poured her coffee into the poodle mug and handed it to her, and she took a long sip, “These are really nice, Draco.” 

“Thank you, Harry showed me how to make them. Secret’s sour milk,” Draco plated the other pancakes and handed them round to Harry and Ron before pouring a bit more batter into the pan for his own breakfast. 

Hermione dabbed her mouth with a napkin, then took out her wand and pointed it at the wall behind the kitchen table where a blackboard appeared, “I suppose we can presume the grounds of Malfoy Manor are right out.” 

“You’ll help?” Draco took the empty seat next to Hermione. 

“Yes. Being around Harry is obviously a good influence on you.” She looked round at Harry and Ron, “When Sirius got stuck in his mad, Dark childhood home, it drove him out of his mind. But we don’t have to let that happen again.” She handed Draco a piece of chalk, “Here, you can take notes.”

…

~~ Malfoy Manor ~~

~~ Godric's Hollow ~~

~~ The Forbidden Forest ~~

Woods around the Burrow

Beach at Shell Cottage

The Forest of Dean

…

Draco was surprised when he stepped out of the fireplace into the kitchen at Malfoy Manor, to find his mother sitting at the table looking stony, “Where have you been?”

“I went to visit Harry,” Draco tried to walk past her to his room, but she got up and blocked his way, her arms folded. 

“I expect you to show me a little common courtesy when you leave this house overnight and tell me where you’re going, with whom, and when you’ll be back.” 

Draco scowled, “I’m a grown man, and I went to see my friend, whom you've been lavishly praising since he turned up here. Could you stand aside, please? You’re blocking me.”

Mother reached into her pocket, and Draco’s heart sank as she drew out a bit of parchment marked with his own green ink handwriting and held it out to him, “What in Circe’s name am I to make of this?” 

His mouth went dry, “You weren’t meant to read it. My Hea-”

She tore the parchment in half and then in fourths and flung it onto the ground between them, “What is the matter with you, Draco? How dare you say such things about me, when I’m all you have in the world? Do you know that? All that stands between you and destitution. Do you want to go living in filth and ignominy like Greyback? Living on rats and stolen scraps? Biting muggles and running from Aurors? 

“That is what awaits you, when you grow tired of the luxurious life you’ve had handed to you by me and by your father. It’s a mercy he didn’t live to see you reduced to this! You can’t imagine how ashamed of you Lucius would be. No purpose, no achievements, no prospects, no proper friends! Rubbing elbows with mudbloods and blood traitors because none of your old friends can bear to look at you!”

Draco ground his jaw, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Two spots of vivid red appeared on Mother’s furious face, and she bore down on him, shaking with anger and screaming until her entire face was scarlet, “ _ I  _ don’t?  _ I  _ don’t know what  _ I’m  _ talking about?! You are wholly unprepared for the realities of life! Ignorant, selfish, ungrateful brat! You think the Boy Who Lived is going to want to be associated with one of the most despised Dark Creatures in Britain and a failed Death Eater to boot?! You think his friends will risk their skins and reputations for the sake of playing happy families with a werewolf?! You are a novelty to them, a do-gooder venture at best, and they will be tired and embarrassed of you sooner than you can fathom! You think you've earned their loyalty? _You?!_ You have pissed away everything that might ever have helped you in life, and you have the gall to suggest that _I_ hold _you_ back?! To imagine that _you_ have the right to resent _me?!_ ” 

Draco realised with a spike of fury that there were tears coming to his eyes. His hands were trembling, and he thought he might be sick. Rather than try and get past Mother again, he turned on the spot and Disapparated without a word. Up in his room, Draco quickly locked the door with his wand and barricaded the bed across the doorway with a Hover charm. He could already hear his mother on the stairs. Draco had never been afraid of his mother before, but he'd never seen her rage like that either. He didn't think he could raise his wand against her, if it came to it.

He dragged his school trunk out of his cupboard and upended it onto the floor, turning out all the random bits of rubbish left in it from his final term at Hogwarts. He packed hastily, throwing in his clothes, a few books, the blanket from his bed, Harry’s notebook. He tucked his broomstick under his arm and lifted the trunk by its handle before Disapparating again. 

Draco landed staggering in the Apparition area of Diagon Alley, stumbled over his trunk, and sprawled onto his front, nearly poking himself in the eye with the end of his broomstick. No one even looked round at him. Draco picked himself up and dragged his trunk into the Three Broomsticks. He’d have liked to have a seat and a gillywater, but didn’t have any gold on him, so instead he asked a pub witch where to find Grimmauld Place. 

“Never heard of it, love. But you might get the Knight Bus.”

“The Knight Bus?” 

“The Knight Bus,” repeated the pub witch, “You from the moon or something? Stick out your wand arm, and the Knight Bus’ll turn up and collect you. Eleven Sickles, anywhere you want to go.” 

“Eleven Sickles?” Draco felt in his pockets as if wishing for them might make Galleons appear. “Could I pay when I get to my destination, do you think?” 

“Do I look like a conductor to you, love? Get on with you, if you’re not drinking. I’ve customers to see to.” 

“Thanks,” Draco mumbled and left the bar, dragging his trunk and clutching his broomstick. He left Diagon Alley and stepped up to a kerb, his wand arm outstretched. He waved away a few surly looking muggles in black cars before the towering purple Knight Bus, with a cacophonous blast of its horn, appeared. 

It pulled up to the kerb, its front door opening with a hiss, and a youngish man in a conductor’s uniform stepped onto the stairs, “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your-”

“I need to get to Grimmauld Place, but I don’t have any money,” Draco interrupted. “Could I pay when I get there? I’d need to borrow it from my friend.” 

Stan Shunpike glared at Draco, “No, you could not. You pays your Eleven Sickles up front, or you walks. Anyway, you a bit silly in the head? It’s just that way, or are your legs broke?” 

“It’s nearby?” asked Draco eagerly. “Could you give me directions?” 

“Yeah, it’s three blocks down and one over. That way,” he pointed, then turned and went back up the steps into the bus, “False alarm, Ern, take ‘er away.” Draco stepped back in time to avoid being clipped by the bus as it went shooting off with another earsplitting blast from its horn. 

Draco glanced around and cast a surreptitious Hover charm on his trunk, then, still shaky and nauseous with adrenaline, set off in the direction Stan Shunpike had indicated, towing his floating trunk behind him. 

…

Ginny Weasley answered the door when Draco rang the bell at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Her face brightened to see him, then furrowed in concern, “Hi Draco. You okay? You look really sweaty and angry and out of sorts. Is that a trunk?”

Draco swabbed at his perspiring forehead with the sleeve of his robes, “Hi Oggie. Can I come in?”

“‘Course,” she stepped back from the door to let him in and called into the house, “Harry, he’s back!” 

Immediately Harry came thundering down the stairs. He smiled broadly when he spotted Draco, “That was quick! Oh. Are you all right?”

Draco came properly into the front room and dropped his broomstick on the floor. He must have looked quite pathetic, because Harry hugged him at once and laid his cheek against Draco’s. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but a sort of sob came out instead, and he hid his face against Harry’s shoulder and took deep, Harry-scented breaths til he reckoned he could try talking again.

“Can I stay?”

“Of course you can stay,” Harry kissed his cheek and hugged him a little tighter. “I’m so glad you’re here. Of course you can stay. Let me show you to your room, and we can talk.” 

Ginny had picked up Draco’s broom and grabbed hold of his trunk, and she followed them as Harry led Draco to a room in the same corridor as Harry’s. 

“Thanks, Gin, got it from here,” said Harry, taking the broom and trunk from her on the threshold. 

Ginny looked briefly mutinous, then shrugged, “See you later, then. Luna’ll be here any minute anyway.” And she stumped off. 

It was a large, old-fashioned room, but Harry had obviously tried to make it more homely. It was recently aired, and there were green bedclothes on the bed, a thick wool carpet sticking out from under the bed, and green paisley curtains hanging on the window. There was an armchair near the window with green plush upholstery and beside the armchair, a low bookshelf with the first shelf half filled with books. On the other side of the room, there was a small desk pushed against the wall and it had parchment, quill and ink on it as well as loose leaf and a handful of biros. 

“Hope you like it,” Harry pulled Draco’s trunk and broom to the cupboard and hoisted them inside it. “The books are mainly muggle books. Just stuff from work I thought you might like.” 

“It’s really nice,” Draco hesitated. 

“But?”

“I don’t much like green,” he confessed. 

Harry laughed, “What’s your favourite colour?” 

“Turquoise.” 

“All right, then,” Harry waved his wand and turned the green furnishings turquoise. “I like that better as well.” 

“Thanks,” Draco dropped heavily onto the bed. “I could sleep for a week.”

Harry sat down next to him, “You okay?”

Draco shrugged, shook his head, “No. Yeah, really it's fine. I’ll be fine.” His eyes were hot and stinging with tears again, and he didn't have the energy to feel humiliated, "Til you get sick of me, and I've got to find somewhere else."

"Draco," Harry laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Why would you say that? What happened?" Draco couldn't answer. He hunched over his knees and hid his face in his hands. Harry waited a long time for Draco to speak, then sighed, "It doesn't really work that way, you know."

Draco looked up, "What doesn't?"

"I do get sick of people. You think I never get sick of Ron and Hermione? Or Ginny? They drive me mad sometimes. They always have; that's just what it's like to be close to people, but. I come up to my room and decompress a bit, or I go for a run with Toad. I annoy them as well! And we talk it out. And it isn't so bad. I love them. I'll always love them." 

Draco tried to digest that, "You love them."

Harry nodded, smiled, "I love them. I love you, too. Did you know that?" 

Draco shook his head, and Harry's face went so soft that Draco was compelled to hide in his hands again. 

Harry rubbed his shoulder, "Do you need to see your Healer? I can take you to St. Mungo's." 

Draco shook his head again, "I'm seeing her next week. I just need a sleep." 

“I’m really really glad you’re here,” Harry repeated.

“Me too. Thanks for taking me in.” Draco sighed, “Can there be good things without. Really really bad things?”

“Well,” said Harry slowly. “Not. Not altogether. You can’t live without the really really bad things. Or at least I’ve never met anyone who has. But I think there are far more good things than really really bad things.”

Draco flopped back against the bed and looked up at the ceiling, “It’s kind of amazing that you’d say that, of all people.”

“Well, it’s like light and shadow, yeah? The bad things sometimes make the good things stand out so much more clearly. Or sometimes. The bad things are a sort of. Portal. Like you fall through a disappointment into something even better than what you lost. Or rather. You don’t fall. You lose something, and you make something new,” Harry flopped down next to him. “You make the good things. Or you go and fetch them. There’s at least as much good as bad in the world. I’m sure of it. I've _seen_ it.”

“Mmph,” Draco reached for Harry’s hand. “You’ll have to show me where you’re looking for all these good things.”

“I will,” Harry pressed Draco’s hand. “Definitely.”

…

They were all squeezed round the kitchen table, Draco and Luna and Ron and Hermione. Even Toad had parked himself under Draco's chair. Ginny’d just gotten up to pour more wine, and Harry was finishing up with cooking the dinner, fat juicy steaks, parsnip mash, and roasted potatoes. The whole the house smelled heavenly, and it made Draco feel wistful like retroactive homesickness for all the jollity and fellowship he'd never known before. He kept coming over weepy again and had to get a bit stern with himself for going so tender over a plate of roast potatoes.

Ginny tipped the last of the wine into Draco’s glass, filling it nearly to the brim so that it was at least two and a half glasses worth of wine, “Good lord, Oggie, are you trying to kill me?”

“Put some in mine, then,” Ginny grabbed her own glass as she took her seat again and waggled it at Draco until he poured a little of his wine into her glass. “Thanks.” She raised her glass and grinned round at her friends, “All right cheers, queers. Clink me.” 

“Cheers,” echoed the group, and they all touched their glasses together and drank.

“I’m not-” began Hermione, her glass halfway to her chin. 

“It’s all right, Hermione, we still love you,” Ginny popped up and kissed Hermione on the top of the head to general laughter. 

“Okay, ingrates. Bring your plates over here,” called Harry from the stove. “Draco first, as he’s newest, and I love him more than the rest of you.” Draco blushed hard, but everyone else laughed good-naturedly as they lined up behind him at the stove to receive their meals. 

Ron was right behind Draco with his plate, “Harry, throw mine on again. These steaks are still bloody mooing, mate.”

"Cooking a steak well done gets you six months in Azkaban," said Harry, moving Ron's meat back into the pan. "I'll risk it for you." 

"True love," said Ron, clapping a hand to his heart. 

“Smells great to me,” Draco said truthfully as he regained his seat. His mouth was already watering. 

“The rest of us haven’t got lovely fangs though,” said Luna, gazing intently out of the kitchen window at the nothingish sight of the steps onto the street. 

“I don’t actually have them at the moment,” said Draco, who was struggling to use his cutlery instead of shoving his face directly into his plate. 

“So,” said Ginny when Harry had squeezed himself between her and Draco. “When are we having the congratulations you’re a blood traitor party for our Draco?” She leaned past Harry to clap Draco on the back.

Draco choked on his wine, “Sorry, what? Scuse me, Og, I think I had a bit of nonsense in my ear; say that again?”

“It’s a tradition!” Ginny tapped her glass with her fork emphatically, and Luna mended it when it cracked. “Thanks, petal. We’re very traditional around here, Fangs. Dnno if you’ve noticed.”

“Right, you’re clearly bladdered,” said Draco, moving Ginny’s wine glass away from her.

“It is actually a tradition,” agreed Harry. “We had one for Evan Bulstrode after he came out and his dad chucked him out. And we had one for Pansy Parkinson as well. I don't remember what our reasoning was at the time, but I think we just fancied a rager. Not that Pan minded.” 

“That one got really out of hand,” Hermione sipped her wine and made a fretful little toss of her head. “I was sure we’d be thrown in front of the Wizengamot on Statute of Secrecy charges when George and Lee started letting off fireworks indoors. I don't know _what_ the muggles saw when that rocket went up the chimney.” Ron actually stopped eating to put his arm around her, and she patted his cheek.

“I was sure they’d burn the house down,” said Harry fondly. 

“I never could find my dirigible plum earrings after that,” sighed Luna. Ginny kissed her on the ear. 

“Would I have to do anything special at the blood traitor party?” Draco asked. 

“Yeah, we make you wrestle a mountain troll before you’re allowed any cake,” said Ron with a snort. 

“Only a little one,” said Luna kindly, patting Draco on the elbow. “A baby one.”

Draco laughed and looked at Harry, “Could be a good chance to track down some of those good things we talked about?”

“Yeah,” Harry beamed. “Could be.”


	6. Epilogue

“The Wizengamot calls to order on the twenty-fourth of June, two thousand and two the hearing requested by the Citizens’ Committee for the Ethical Treatment of Lycanthropes. Wizengamot Chief Witch Minerva McGonagall presiding. The Chief Witch recognises our first witness, Mr Draco Abraxas Malfoy of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London with a personal testimony. Mr Malfoy, you may now Magnify your voice.” 

Draco pointed his wand at his throat and muttered  _ Sonorous _ before stepping forward to the edge of the podium. He looked down at his notes, then raised his face and caught eyes with McGonagall. She didn’t smile, but she nodded to him, and it felt so much like Transfiguration lessons that he relaxed a bit. 

He wet his lips, “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I am a danger to every person in this room,” despite the nervous rasp in Draco’s voice, the speculative mutterings and whispers scattered through the gallery ceased, and the room fell as quiet as if a Silencing charm had been cast over it. “When I was seventeen years old, I was bitten by Fenrir Greyback on order of Lord Voldemort as punishment for failing to assassinate Albus Dumbledore.” 

Draco tore back his sleeve and raised his left arm high so that they could all see his mutilated Dark Mark. He waited for the murmurs of shock to die away before he continued, “I was infected with lycanthropy, and every full moon since then, I have transformed. After I was infected, my mother engaged a service to prepare wolfsbane potions for me in my home, and I was naive enough to believe that service was the provision of a government that takes an interest in the safety and wellbeing of its constituents. 

“When I became estranged from my mother, and I was forced to leave her home a year ago, I was in for an alarming discovery. I was actually on my own. The Ministry had provided nothing for me, and didn’t seem to care whether I was able to continue taking the potion that prevents me from losing my mind every month and attacking any human around me. I could look my best friend in the eye and tear out her throat. If it hadn’t been for the compassion and generosity of my friend Harry Potter assisting me with continuing with my monthly course of wolfsbane, I might have infected someone else or even killed them. I should hope that would horrify the Wizengamot as it does me, but I’m afraid I might be slipping back into that unfortunate naivete if I imagine that particular danger causes anyone here any sleepless nights.

“Lycanthropy is a highly manageable condition, but the consequences for lycanthropes living without access to the potions we need can be fatal. Not only for us, but for the people around us. Instead of taking the simple measure of providing access to these potions, the Ministry has tried to outlaw our existence by making it nearly impossible for us to work and support ourselves. By making it nearly impossible for us to find stable housing. By threatening our ability to participate in public life and stoking fear and animosity toward us among the populace.

“It’s time for wizarding Britain to abandon these archaic and harmful attitudes towards lycanthropes. We are not monsters. We are not Dark Creatures. We’re your neighbours. Your family. Your colleagues and your friends. We are human. We are part of your community, and we need your help. We are ill, and we are suffering, and the Ministry has a moral obligation not only to lycanthropes but to every witch and wizard, every person and Creature in Britain to see that all lycanthropes have free, on demand access to wolfsbane potion and safe places to transform. It is your obligation to help us, and we demand that you meet this obligation immediately.”

McGonagall spoke loudly over the chattering that burst out all over the chamber as soon as Draco had finished speaking, “Does the Wizengamot have any questions regarding Mr Malfoy’s testimony? ...Very well, thank you for your time, Mr Malfoy. You may go.” 

…

Brimming with nervous energy, Harry met Draco in the ante-chamber, “How did it go?”

Draco nodded, “All right. I nearly sicked up, but I didn’t. I did sweat through my robes, but it was in the back, so they didn’t see.”

Harry grinned, “That’s all right, then. Do you need to hang round for a bit or are you ready to go?”

“McGonagall said I could go. Let’s go.”

“We’ll pick up our Portkey first, and then! Off we go!” Harry hoisted the rucksack at his feet onto his back and took Draco’s hand. 

“You’re far too excited about this; we do it every month.”

“It isn’t because of  _ you. _ I just genuinely quite like camping.” 

“Liar. You love me.” 

…

Harry set the Portkey on a stump and looked round at Draco, “Where shall we set up the tent?”

“Near the pond?” Draco suggested, remaining casual only with an effort. The more often they returned to The Forest of Dean, the more lively he found it, even before his transformation. 

“Fuck off,” said Harry cheerfully. “Everytime we camp near the pond, I freeze my bollocks off.”

“Even with me to warm you up?” Draco batted his eyelashes. 

Harry laughed, “Yeah, when you’re there, it’s lovely, but until then it’s frozen bollocks, and I’ve been advised to avoid ice pop genitals.” 

“Up on top of that little hill then,” Draco pointed, as if they didn’t camp on the hill half the time they came. “Between those two forked trees that look like a clothesline without any line.”

“It’s a picturesque spot,” Harry agreed. 

“Come on,” Draco set off for the hill at such a quick walk that Harry had to jog to catch him up. 

They erected their tent in the appointed area, and when they’d done, the sun was low in the sky, and an inviting, aromatic twilight was falling lazily over the forest. Draco turned to Harry with a little smile, “Fancy a dip in the pond before you’ve got to kiss me goodbye?”

“All right, but don’t think I don’t know you just want to see me naked.” 

Draco laughed, “That is true, actually. Never gets old.” 

They walked down the hill to the pond hand in hand, and if Draco’s hand was a little squirmy in Harry’s and his ears a little too keenly pricked to the scurryings of the living things all about them, Harry didn’t seem to mind. They stripped before they reached the shore of the pond and draped their clothes and boots over the same stump that held the Portkey. 

“Got to remember to bring that Portkey closer to the tent,” Harry remarked. “So I don’t have to go searching all over creation for it in the morning when you’ve got a headache the size of the moon. Merlin forbid we miss it, and I’ve got to get you home by Sidealong in that state. Remember the time you puked on me?”

“Excuse me, no puking is on the agenda. I am planning to stay extremely well hydrated with the help of this delightful pond,” Draco was already wading into it, gooseflesh rising on his limbs as the cold water lapped against his shins. 

Harry plunged into the pool with an immoderate splash, but they floated beside each other quite serenely after only a very little playfighting. 

Draco glided one arm across the water, and Harry caught hold of his hand and laced their fingers together, “I nearly drowned here once.” 

“But you didn’t,” said Draco, as he knew he was meant to. 

“I didn’t. And it’s still a lovely spot. Still got some peace in it.” 

“Lovely,” Draco looked up at the sky through the trees and squeezed Harry’s hand. “It is peaceful.”

“I love coming here with you.” 

“I know you do,” Draco shut his eyes for a moment, then let go of Harry and dived down below the surface of the pool for the sheer pleasure of raking his hands against its muddy bottom. “I should get out,” he told Harry when he popped up again. 

“Okay.” 

Draco went for his wand when they got out and cast a Drying charm on them both, just to show he wasn’t cutting it too close. 

“Should we go over the plan again?” Harry glanced a little anxiously at the shadow-coloured sky. 

“No need,” said Draco. “I remember. Don’t worry,” he added. “It’s fine. I’ll see you so soon.” 

“In the morning,” Harry agreed, pulling on his robes. 

“And a bit now,” Draco lowered himself to kneeling on the ground, still naked. 

“I love you,” said Harry very quickly. 

“I know that,” Draco tossed his head. “It really is fine. I love you, too,” he added. And he began to change. His skin burned and prickled; his bones cracked as they lengthened. When it was done, he raised his head to howl relief and excitement at the newly risen full moon. The woods were singing to him of their million joys and mysteries, but he looked at Harry. 

Harry hugged Draco’s great head against his middle, stroked the thick ruff of fur on Draco’s neck, kissed his nose, “Still beautiful. I suppose it only makes you vainer. Do you know what you look like? I could Transfigure you a mirror, if you like.” 

Draco snuffled a wolfy sort of laugh and licked Harry’s lips. 

“Oh lovely, thanks for that,” Harry grumbled, but he didn’t wipe it away. “Have fun. Be good. I’ll see you soon.” Draco spared a moment to lick Harry’s face again, and then darted away into the rich darkness of the forest. 

…

Twelve hours later, Draco returned to their tent, still wolfish and quite muddy. He’d shaken himself as clean as he could, but there was nothing to be done about the mud on his paws. Harry wouldn’t mind. Not really anyway, and they both quite enjoyed his pretense at grumbling. Draco slunk across the carpet in the dark to where Harry was lying in the bottom bunk, soundly asleep. The bunk creaked under Draco’s weight as he eased himself onto it and stretched out flush on top of Harry. 

Harry laughed low without opening his eyes, “There’s my four-legged hot water bottle. Did you have a nice time, dear? Chase some rabbits?” Draco licked Harry’s ear, and Harry stroked his back, “Put me back to bed then, as it’s still arse o’clock in the morning.” Draco laid his enormous head beside Harry’s on the pillow, and Harry clasped his arms about Draco’s neck, and together, they sank blissfully back into sleep. 


End file.
